THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
LA  JOLU,  CALIFORNIA 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA    SAN  DIEGO 


3  1822  00317  3218 


P, 


I       '3 


lA       > 


A  NEW  DRAMA 
iUn  Drama  Nuevo) 


A  NEW  DRAMA 

(Un  Drama  Nuevo) 


A  Tragedy  in  Three  Acts 

FROM    THE    SPANISH    OF 

DON  MANUEL  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS 

TRANSLATED  BY 

JOHN  DRISCOLL  FITZ-GERALD,   Ph.D. 

Member  of  The  Hispanic  Society  of  America; 

Corresponding  Member   of  the  Spanish   Royal  Academy; 

Department   of   Romance  Languages,   University  of   Illinois 


THACHER  ROWLAND  GUILD,  A.M. 
Associate  in     English,  University  of  Illinois 

WITH    AN    INTRODUCTION    BY 

JOHN  DRISCOLL  FITZ-GERALD 


NEW  YORK 
1915 


Copyright,    1915,   by 
John  Driscoll  Fitz-Gerald 

AND 

Lois  Greene  Guild 


PUBLICATIONS  OF 

THE  HISPANIC  SOCIETY  OF  AMERICA 

No.  90 


TO 
THACHER  HOWLAND  GUILD 


FOREWORD 

This  translation  of  Un  Drama  Nuevo  by  Spain's 
greatest  modern  dramatist  was  made  during  the  winter 
and  spring  of  1914.  It  was  a  work  of  love  in  more 
senses  than  one.  Mr.  Guild  had  a  deep  interest  in  all 
dramatic  literature.  Ilis  life  work  was  to  study  not  only 
its  artistic  beauty  in  the  domain  of  Belles-Lettres,  but 
also  its  technique  and  its  value  as  a  moral  force.  I  was 
interested  in  Spanish  literature  and  in  spreading  among 
our  people  a  wider  knowledge  of  Spanish  culture.  Both 
of  us  were  profoundly  impressed  with  this  particular 
work  and  Avished  to  make  it  more  available  for  our 
compatriots.  And  by  doing  this  piece  of  work  together 
we  hoped  to  draw  closer  the  bonds  of  friendship  that 
already  united  us.    This  last  object  we  attained. 

Thacher  Howland  Guild,  son  of  an  old  New  Eng- 
land family  and  graduate  of  Brown,  was  one  of  those 
rare  men  of  prepossessing  personality  who  upon  closer 
acquaintance  prove  to  be  even  better  than  our  expecta- 
tions. Among  his  colleagues  and  students  he  exerted  a 
quiet  yet  strong  influence  for  righteousness,  without 
ever  descending  to  preachments.     So  much  was  this  the 


".ase  that  a  keen  observer  of  this  community's  academic 
life  characterized  him  as  ''uot  a  member  of  the  English 
Department  or  of  the  College  of  Liberal  Arts  and  Sci- 
ences, but  a  benevolent  institution  upon  the  campus  of 
the  University  of  Illinois".  By  all  who  came  into  con- 
tact with  him  he  was  recognized  as  an  aristocrat  without 
arrogance,  a  Christian  without  cant. 

One  of  the  bright  and  inspiring  memories  of  my 
life  is  the  recollection  of  the  happ}^  hours  we  spent 
together  over  this  work,  and  the  many  fleeting,  illumi- 
nating glimpses  that  1  had  into  his  pure  soul  and 
brilliant  mind.  I  miss  him.  During  the  summer  of 
1914  he  went  to  his  reward,  and  the  ])Ook  that  we  had 
hoped  to  publish  together  becomes  in  a  sense  his  own 
memorial. 

J.  D.  F-G. 
June  1,  1915. 
Urbana,  Illinois,  U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Dedication  vii 

Foreword  ix 

Introduction  xiii 

A  New  Drama  _ - 1 

Characters 3 

Act  One  ._ - -       5 

Act  Two  63 

Act  Three 109 


INTRODUCTION 

"To  rise  by  dint  of  sheer  merit  to  the  most  honor- 
able positions;  to  give  universal  satisfaction  while  one 
holds  them;  to  write  works  that  delight  and  astonish 
both  on  the  stage  and  in  the  quiet  of  the  study;  to 
enjoy  that  rarest  of  pleasures,  posthumous  glory  in 
one's  lifetime;  and  to  die  taking  with  one  the  entire 
affection  of  a  cultured  nation  and  the  tears  of  those 
who  were  one's  friends:  this  is  indeed  extraordinary 
fortune,  fortune  seldom  granted  to  mortals."^ 

Such  was,  however,  the  fortune  of  Manuel  Tamayo  y 
Bans,  who  was  born  in  Madrid,  September  15,  1829,  of 
a  family  distinguished  on  both  sides  in  the  annals  of 
the  stage.  Of  his  two  brothers,  Andres  was  a  play  right, 
and  Victorino,  besides  being  a  writer,  was  an  eminent 
actor,  who  ably  seconded  Manuel  by  playing  roles  in 
some  of  the  latter 's  dramas,  and  especially  by  creating 
the  difficult  role  of  Yorick,  in  JJn  Drama  Nuevo.  Their 
father,  Jose  Tamayo,  was  a  star  actor,  and  manager  of 


IE.    Cotarelo    y     Mori,    Historia    Hteraria.     Madrid,    1901, 
Tomo,  I,  363. 


a  company  of  his  own,  that  performed  in  Madrid  and 
in  some  of  the  provincial  capitals.  His  mother,  Joaquina 
Bans  y  Ponce  de  Leon,  was  a  brilliant  actress,  who 
interpreted  leading  roles  in  several  companies,  including 
her  husband's,  and  was  renowned  for  her  beauty,  her 
virtue,  and  her  artistic  talent.  Her  father,  Francisco 
Bans,  was  for  many  years  director  of  companies  playing 
chiefly  in  Murcia  and  Cartagena.  Her  sister,  Teresa 
Baus  y  Ponce  de  Leon,  did  only  minor  roles,  but  was 
famous  in  native  Spanish  dances;  whereas  her  half- 
sister,  Antera  Baus  y  Laborda  (by  her  father's  first 
marriage,  with  the  well-known  actress  Ventura  Laborda) 
was  really  celebrated.  We  have  not  exhausted  his  the- 
atrical pedigree,  but  this  will  suffice  to  show  that  Manuel 
Tamayo  y  Baus  inherited  and  came  naturally  by  his 
theatrical  instincts. 

His  early  life  was  passed  in  this  same  atmosphere, 
travelling  about  the  provinces  when  the  company  moved 
from  one  city  to  another.  They  lived  for  a  long  time 
in  Granada,  which  was  then  one  of  Spain 's  most  brilliant 
capitals.  Here  the  stage-manager  was  his  father,  the 
leading  actress  his  mother,  and  the  impresario  his  future 
father-in-law,  Jose  Maiquez.  Here,  too,  young  Manuel 
met  and  began  a  life-long  friendship  with  three  distin- 
guished men  of  letters,  Aureliauo  Fernandez-Guerra  y 
Orbe,    Luis    Fernandez-Guerra    y    Orbe,    and    Manuel 


Canete,  who  always  spoke  of  Tairiayo  as  their  younger 
brother. 

The  life  of  Tamayo  y  Baus  was  simple  and  modest, 
and  is  easily  told.  In  1849,  the  day  before  he  was  twenty 
years  of  age,  he  married  Emilia  (whom  he  always  called 
Araalia)  Maiquez,  who  was  a  year  his  senior.  She 
proved  to  be  just  the  kind  of  wife  he  needed,  and  their 
married  life  was  a  perpetual  honey-moon.  Three  years 
later  he  lost  his  mother,  in  the  plenitude  of  her  life, 
beauty,  and  renown.  His  profound  grief  was  delicately 
expressed  later  that  same  year  in  the  dedication  to  his 
play  Angela :  "To  thee  who  lovedst  me  so  much  on 
earth ;  to  thee  who  now  from  Heaven  dost  watch  o  'er 
thy  son.     Manuel." 

He  was  given  a  position  in  one  of  the  ministries  by 
his  distant  relative  Antonio  Gil  y  Zarate ;  and  his  work 
there  was  such  that  he  was  promoted  by  Candido  Noce- 
dal.    He  was  dismissed  by  the  Revolution  of  1854. 

The  Royal  Spanish  Academy  of  the  Language,  oldest 
and  proudest  of  Spain's  academies,  in  1858  elected 
Tamayo  to  succeed  the  recently  deceased  Juan  Gonzalez 
Cabo-Reluz  as  occupant  of  chair  0.  He  took  possession 
thereof  and  was  welcomed  thereto  by  his  old  friend 
Aureliano  Fernandez-Guerra  y  Orbe,  June  12  of  the 
next  year. 

After  having  served  awhile  as  Head  of  the  Library 
of  San  Isidro,  he  was  again  dismissed  by  a  revolution : 


that  of  1868.  But  better  days  were  coming  for  this 
man  who,  with  all  his  modesty,  was  the  greatest  dramat- 
ist in  Spain  in  the  nineteenth  century.  In  1874  he  was 
elected  Perpetual  Secretary  of  the  Royal  Spanish  Acad- 
emy, and  went,  as  his  new  office  required,  to  live  within 
the  Academy.  One  of  the  great  joys  of  this  new  position 
was  the  fact  that  it  brought  him  so  near  to  his  old  friend 
Fernandez-Guerra,  who,  as  Perpetual  Librarian,  also 
had  his  home  in  the  Academy. 

It  was  not  until  1884,  however,  that  Tamayo  re- 
ceived his  greatest  tribute  from  the  nation  that  he  had 
honored  and  served.  One  of  the  brightest  pages  in  the 
life  of  that  brilliant  statesman  and  diplomat  Alejandro 
Pidal  y  Mon  is  the  story  of  how  King  Alfonso  XII,  and 
the  Prime  Minister,  Antonio  Canovas  del  Castillo  (under 
whom  Pidal  was  Minister  of  Public  Works),  were  per- 
suaded to  appoint  Tamayo  to  the  exalted  position  of 
Director  of  the  National  Library,  and  Chief  of  the  Board 
of  Archivists,  Librarians,  and  Antiquarians;  and  of 
how  Pidal  then  had  to  persuade  Tamayo  to  accept  the 
post. 

In  1878  he  had  rededicated  to  his  wife  his  great 
play  La  Locura  de  Amor,  in  these  words: 

"Twenty-three  years  ago  I  dedicated  to  thee  this 
work,  lacking  in  merit,  like  all  of  mine,  but  not  lacking 
in   fortune.     It   has   been   translated   into   Portuguese, 


French,  Italian,  and  German,  and  it  still  continues  to  be 
played  successfully  in  Spanish  theatres. 

"When  I  dedicated  it  to  thee  I  extolled  thy  vir- 
tues ;  from  that  day  to  this  thou  hast  lived  only  to  con- 
tinue giving  evidence  of  boundless  goodness,  supernatu- 
ral courage,  and  saintly  abnegation.  I  told  thee  then 
that  my  love  and  respect  would  never  fail  thee :  I  did 
not  deceive  thee. 

"Amalia,  my  wife,  angelic  nurse  to  my  parents, 
and  to  the  children  of  my  brothers,  God  grant  that  thou 
mayst  do  for  me  what  I  have  seen  thee  do  for  others; 
God  grant  me  the  happiness  of  dying  in  thine  arms. — 
Manuel." 

This  wish  was  granted  twenty  years  later,  when  on 
June  20,  1898,  after  more  than  a  year  of  intense  suffer- 
ing borne  with  Christian  fortitude,  he  went  to  his  long 
rest. 

Tamayo's  dramaturgic  activities  began  early.  Lay- 
ing aside  all  legendary  stories  that  refer  to  still  more 
youthful  performances,  we  have  unquestionable  evidence 
that  a  work  by  him  (a  translation  or  adaptation  of 
Genevieve  de  Brahant)  was  successfully  staged  at  Gra- 
nada in  1841,  when  he  was  in  his  eleventh  year.  The 
incident  was  related  by  Aureliano  Fernandez-Guerra  y 


Orbe  in  the  discourse  with  which  he  welcomed  Tamayo 
to  the  Spanish  Academy : 

"Eighteen  years  ago,  at  the  first  performance  of  an 
interesting  drama,  well-suited  to  our  stage,  the  public 
of  Granada  insisted  that  the  author  of  the  adaptation 
and  the  actress  who  had  so  marvelously  interpreted  the 
title-role  should  come  before  the  curtain  and  receive 
their  well-earned  ovation.  It  was  a  touching  sight  when 
the  curtain  rose,  to  see  Joaquina  Baus,  that  rare  prodigy 
of  talent  and  beauty,  almost  overwhelmed  and  clasping 
to  her  breast  her  little  son,  the  new  genius,  whose  face 
was  still  so  childlike  that  he  seemed  not  yet  to  have 
grown  beyond  the  angelic  hours  of  infancy." 

He  was  widely  read  in  the  ancient  and  modern 
classics  and  the  effects  thereof  are  evidenced  in  many 
ways  throughout  the  whole  of  his  works:  in  his  earlier 
days,  by  translations  and  adaptations,  or  by  works 
whose  germinal  idea  he  acknowledges  he  received  from 
foreign  authors;  and  in  his  later  days,  by  his  sobriety 
of  expression,  wealth  of  vocabulary,  and  classicism  of 
form  and  style.  These  qualities,  coupled  with  the  ro- 
mantic fire  and  chivalrous  temper  that  were  his  as  a 
Spaniard,  and  the  deep  piety  that  was  his  as  a  man, 
made  his  work  unique  on  the  Spanish  stage. 

Although  not  performed  until  1847,  his  Juana  de 
Arco  must  have  been  written  about  the  same  time  as 


Genoveva  de  Brabante,  for  in  the  dedication  to  his  par- 
ents he  calls  it  his  "first  literary  effort".  It  is  an 
imitation  of  Schiller's  Jvngfrau  von  Orleans,  and  is  so 
acknowledged  on  the  title  page.  It  must  be  admitted 
also  that  the  original  is  handled  with  the  utmost  freedom. 

His  first  original  drama,  El  Cinco  de  Agosto,  ap- 
peared in  1849.  It  was  a  deplorable  specimen  of  the 
most  lugubrious  romanticism,  and  has  been  called 
Tamayo's  first  and  last  mistake. 

After  several  pieces  of  minor  importance,  some 
original,  others  translations,  he  presented,  in  1852,  the 
much  discussed  drama  Angela.  In  the  prologue  the 
author  acknowledges  that  he  took  the  germinal  idea  from 
Schiller's  Kahale  und  Liehe,  and  that  certain  situations 
of  the  German  piece  reappear  in  the  Spanish.  But  he 
feels  that  because  of  the  essential  differences  that  exist, 
his  drama  must  be  called  original.  After  such  a  frank 
avowal  of  indebtedness,  some  critics  seem  chagrined  not 
to  find  the  two  works  more  nearly  alike  and  then  pro- 
ceed to  condemn  the  Spanish  work  on  all  the  points  of 
difference.  This  seems  hardly  fair  to  Angela,  which, 
despite  one  particularly  noteworthy  fault  of  construc- 
tion (the  mixing  of  the  poison,  which  no  one  drinks), 
is  effective  and  interesting.  I  do  not  mean  to  imply  that 
I  consider  it  anywhere  near  the  equal  of  Kahale  und 
Liehe.     Quite  the  contrary.     Schiller's  work  is  much 


stronger,  much  more  dramatic.  Furthermore,  the  inter- 
est attaching  to  Kabale  und  Liebe  as  a  document  of 
cultural  history  is  wholly  absent  from  Angela. 

Virginia,  an  attempt  at  modernizing  the  classic 
tragedy,  appeared  in  1853,  and  made  as  much  of  a 
furore  in  Spain  as  did  Hugo's  Hernani  in  France, 
twentj^-three  years  earlier.  Despite  the  contradictory 
opinions  that  were  expressed  about  the  play  (and  things 
went  so  far  that  duels  were  fought),  Virginia  was  al- 
ways the  author's  favorite;  and  during  his  later  years 
he  worked  assiduously  at  a  revision  to  make  its  style 
even  more  perfect. 

His  first  attempt  at  an  historical  drama  was  La 
Bica-hembra,  written  in  collaboration  with  his  friend 
Fernandez-Guerra.  It  appeared  in  1854,  and  treated 
the  well-known  legend  of  the  noble  lady,  Juana  de 
Mendoza,  who  disdained  all  her  suitors,  until  one  of 
them  one  day  slapped  her  face  in  public.  Him  she 
married,  so  that  it  might  not  be  said  that  any  one  but 
her  husband  had  slapped  her. 

The  next  important  play  of  our  author.  La  Locura 
de  Amor,  appeared  the  following  year  (1855)  and  is 
by  some  critics  considered  his  masterpiece.  The  subject 
is  the  madness  of  Juana  la  Loca,  the  daughter  of  Fer- 
dinand and  Isabella.  Tamayo  for  the  purposes  of  the 
character-development   of   Juana   accepts   as   historical 


the  madness  of  the  Queen,  and  then  makes  that  madness 
evolve  out  of  her  love  and  jealousy  for  her  husband 
Philip  the  Beautiful,  who  gave  her  little  cause  for  the 
former  sentiment  and  only  too  much  for  the  latter.  The 
delicate  shading  in  his  portrayal  of  the  gradual  devel- 
opment of  this  mania  is  marvelously  done.  The  his- 
toricity of  this  theory  that  Juana's  madness  was  due 
to  her  love  and  jealousy  was  distinctly  open  to  question 
when  Tamayo  used  it.  But  just  as  Jules  Verne  in  his 
Twenty  TJiousand  Leagues  Under  the  Sea  described  in 
minute  detail  submarines  a  quarter  of  a  century  before 
there  were  any,  so  Tamayo  divined  psychologically, 
from  what  works  he  had  at  hand,  a  truth  that  was 
scientifically  demonstrated  by  the  historians  nearly  forty 
years  later.^ 

The  discourse  read  by  Tamayo  when  he  took  his  seat 
in  the  Spanish  Academy  (1859)  treated  of  Truth  as  the 
Fountain  of  Beauty  in  Dramatic  Literature.  In  devel- 
oping that  thesis  he  did  not  use  the  word  truth  in  the 
modern  naturalistic  sense,  nor  did  he  consider  all  truth 
artistic,  as  will  be  seen  from  the  following  passages : 
"Not  all  that  is  true  in  the  world  is  suited  to  the 
theatre.  The  scenic  fiction  will  cease  to  be  beautiful, 
and  will  sin  by  falseness  when  it  represents  the  unusual 


^Aivtonio  Rodriguez  Villa,  La  Reina  Dona  Juana   la  Loca. 
Estudio  historico.     Madrid,  1892. 


and  not  the  natural,  the  exception  and  not  the  rule ;  in 
lieu  of  characters,  caricatures;  monsters  instead  of  pas- 
sionate men ;  when  it  paints  with  minute  exactness, 
rather  than  the  movements  of  the  soul,  the  movements 
of  the  flesh,  submerging,  so  to  speak,  spirit  in  matter; 
when  instead  of  reproducing  only  the  purest,  most 
essential  and  most  poetic  in  nature,  it  takes  from  her 
only  what  is  coarse,  unsubstantial,  and  prosaic.  *  *  *  * 
What  is  of  supreme  importance  in  dramatic  literature 
is  to  proscribe  from  its  domain  every  kind  of  impurity, 
capable  of  staining  the  soul  of  the  spectators ;  and,  em- 
ploying the  bad  only  as  a  means  and  the  good  always 
as  an  end,  to  give  to  each  its  real  coloring  with  due 
regard  for  the  dictates  of  conscience  and  the  eternal 
laws  of  Divine  Justice." 

This  sounds  ultra-modern,  and  yet  it  was  written 
nearly  sixty  years  ago.  By  instinct  Tamayo  had  never 
transgressed  the  principles  he  here  professed ;  but  as  h*^ 
grew  in  experience  he  improved  in  technique  and  power, 
and  his  reception  into  the  Academy  serves  as  the  divid- 
ing line  between  his  earlier  and  his  later  method,  perhaps 
because  the  preparation  of  this  discourse  had  forced  him 
to  pause,  so  to  speak,  and  to  take  account  of  stock.  To 
this  second  period  belong,  besides  several  minor  pieces, 
three  dramas  of  great  importance,  all  produced  under 
the  nom  de  plume  of  Joaquin  Estebanez. 


The  germinal  idea  of  Lo  Positivo  (1862)  was  taken 
from  Leon  Laya's  Lc  due  Job,  and  this  is  frankly 
acknowledged  in  the  notice  published  at  the  beginning 
of  the  play.  But  in  addition  to  the  fact  that  the  char- 
acters are  entirely  Spanish,  the  independence  of  the 
Spanish  play  is  amply  proven  by  the  circumstance  that 
the  French  play's  eleven  characters,  four  acts,  and  fifty 
scenes,  are  reduced  by  Tamayo  to  four  characters,  three 
acts,  and  twenty-four  scenes.  It  treats  effectively  the 
money  question  in  one  of  its  most  rej^ellent  forms,  ava- 
rice in  a  woman's  soul.  Despite  the  anonymity  of  the 
production  it  was  unusually  successful  and  had  a  long 
run.  It  is  so  well  constructed  that  some  critics,  even 
among  those  that  are  hardest  to  please,  declare  that  it 
has  no  structural  defects.  Despite  these  qualities,  Lo 
Positivo  does  not  seem  destined  to  survive  permanently. 

Not  so,  in  the  case  of  the  great  play  against  duel- 
ling: Lances  de  Honor  (1863).  It  is  doubtful  if  duelling 
has  ever  been  more  effectively  arraigned  as  a  pest  in 
/society.  The  scenes  are  wonderfully  telling  and  follow 
one  another  in  breathless  succession.  The  play  is  very 
compact  and  the  first  two  acts  seem  well  nigh  beyond 
improvement,  as  does  also  most  of  the  third  act;  but 
some  critics  find  fault  with  what  they  call  ''excessive 
insistence  upon  the  moral  lesson ' '  that  the  work  teaches. 
This  criticism  does  not  appeal  to  me.  From  the  stand- 
point of  dramatic  construction,  however,  there  is  in  this 


third  act,  brief  as  it  is,  one  serious  defect:  the  sudden 
appearance  of  the  crazed  girl  whose  father  was  stabbed 
on  this  same  spot  a  year  ago  in  a  duel  such  as  is  fought 
among  the  lower  classes,  and  whose  mother,  crazed  by 
the  incident,  died  shortly  afterward,  leaving  the  young 
girl  an  orphan.  Her  appearance  is  nowhere  prepared  in 
the  earlier  parts  of  the  drama.  That  it  is  impressive  is 
beyond  doubt :  it  is  terrific  even  in  the  reading,  and 
contemporary  critics  relate  that  the  audiences  were  lit- 
erally filled  with  terror  at  the  scene.  As  in  dramatic 
productions  effectiveness  is  what  is  sought,  it  is  an  open 
question  whether  any  thing  so  effective  as  this  ought  on 
merely  structural  grounds  to  be  called  a  defect. 

But  Tamayo  was  to  attain  still  greater  heights,  and 
after  a  period  of  silence  he  produced  what  by  most 
critics  is  considered  his  greatest  work :  Un  Drama  Nuevo 
(1867).  Here  we  have  indeed  a  tragedy  happening  in 
connection  with  a  legitimate  love-affair.  Alice  and 
Edmund,  as  young  people,  fall  in  love  with  each  other 
but  do  not  declare  their  love.  Edmund  has  been  rescued 
from  beggary  and  adopted  by  Yorick,  who  later  furnishes 
comforts  of  all  kinds  for  Alice's  sick  mother.  Alice 
yields  to  her  mother's  dying  prayer  that  she  marry 
Yorick,  who  loves  her  and  is  so  good.  Alice  and  Edmund 
strive  hard  to  live  up  to  duty  in  the  terrible  situation 


that  has  been  thrust  upou  tliein  all  unwittingly  by  the 
man  whom  they  both  love.  One  night  while  playing  the 
title-roles  of  Romeo  and  Juliet,  they  make  their  mutual 
declaration  in  the  very  words  of  the  play  itself.  There- 
after growing  remorse  and  constant  efforts  to  dominate 
their  love  fill  their  lives.  Shakespeare  and  Walton  both 
discover  the  secret.  The  former  believes  them  when 
they  assure  him  they  have  not  yielded  to  their  love ;  and 
promises  to  help  them  to  win  their  battle  over  self. 
Walton,  whose  wife  had  deceived  him,  believes  them 
guilty  of  the  worst,  and,  to  avenge  himself  on  Yorick 
for  taking  from  him  the  great  tragic  role  in  a  new  play, 
plans  to  prove  to  Yorick  that  Alice  and  Edmund  are 
false  to  him.  Edmund  in  terror  tries  to  save  Alice  and 
writes  her  of  his  plan  to  flee  with  her  to  a  foreign  coun- 
try. Alice  refuses  to  "make  irremediable  the  evil"  and 
determines  to  stay  with  Yorick  despite  her  love  for 
Edmund,  whose  letter  she  is  about  to  burn  when  Walton 
seizes  it  for  the  purpose  of  presenting  it  to  Yorick.  The 
"new  drama"  that  they  have  been  rehearsing  has  a 
situation  exactly  like  their  own,  and  the  last  scene  shows 
all  the  actors  playing  double  roles  which  are  none  the 
less  identical.  As  an  example  of  the  welding  of  the 
play  within  the  play  it  has  never  been  surpassed.  As 
just  said,  all  the  characters  in  the  play  we  have  been 
reading  or  seeing,  are  playing  identical  roles  in  the  play 


about  which  they  have  been  talking  and  which  they  are 
now  staging  for  the  first  time ;  all  the  speeches  made  in 
this  second  play  fit  the  actors  in  their  double  capacity 
in  both  plays;  and  the  denoiiment  of  the  second  play  is 
the  denoument  of  the  first  play.  Nor  is  this  perfect 
construction  the  play's  only  merit.  Tamayo  nowhere 
else  equalled  the  sonorous  prose  here  used,  nor  the  ring- 
ing verse  that  he  chose  for  the  last  scene.  The  charac- 
ters are  all  drawn  with  the  exquisite  art  of  a  great  mas- 
ter, and  they  are  lovable  in  varying  degrees ;  and  Yorick, 
Alice,  and  Edmund  fill  us  with  pity  as  well.  Only 
"Walton  is  horrible,  as  the  human  embodiment  of  Envy, 
but  as  we  are  made  to  understand  how  he  came  to  that 
state,  we  feel  pity  even  for  him.  Vn  Drama  Nuevo  is 
one  of  the  great  plays  of  all  literature. 

Some  years  ago  it  was  presented  to  the  American 
people  at  Daly's  Theatre  in  New  York,  under  the  title 
of  Yorick's  Love.  Shakespeare  was  played  by  Charles 
Fisher,  with  Louis  James  as  Yorick.  It  did  not  meet 
Vv'ith  success  and  Daly  complained  bitterly  of  the  lack 
of  support  by  the  public  in  his  efforts  to  place  plays  of 
this  class  before  them.  The  piece  was  later  added  to 
the  repertoire  of  Lawrence  Barrett.  As  I  have  not  been 
able  to  see  a  copy  of  Yorick' s  Love,  I  do  not  know 
whether  it  was  a  translation  or  an  adaptation.  Nor  do 
I  know  whether  or  not  it  was  ever  published. 

John  D.  Fitz  -  Gerald. 


A  NEW  DRAMA 

fUn  Drama  NuevoJ 


A  DRAMA  IN  THREE  ACTS 


CHARACTERS 

YoRiCK,  comedian  in  Shakespeare's  company. 

Alice,  his  wife. 

Edmund,  his  foster-son. 

Walton,  tragedian. 

Shakespeare. 

The  Author. 

The  Stage-Prompter. 

The  Prompter's  Attendant. 

Actors  and  employees  of  the  theatre. 


SCENE 
London — 1605 

Act  One — A  room  in  Yorick's  house. 

Act  Two — The  same.     A  number  of  days  later. 

Act  Three — Part  One — A  dressing  room  at  the  theatre. 

The  same  evening. 
Part  Two — The  stage  of  the  theatre. 

Immediately  after  the  preceding. 


ACT  ONE 

A  room  in  Y crick's  house.    At  the  right,  a  small  table; 

at  the  left,  a  settle.    A  door  at  each  side, 

and  one  in  the  rear. 

SCENE  ONE 

YoRiCK  AND  Shakespeare 

They  enter  through  the  door  at  the  rear.    Shakespeare 

carries  a  manuscript  in  his  hand. 

Shakespeare 

And  may  we  know  to  what  end  you  would  bring  us 

hither  at  this  hour? 

Yorick 
It  irks  you,  perchance,  to  enter  my  house? 

Shakespeare 
An  idle  question,  that,  as  well  you  know. 

Yorick 
Marry,  then,  why  this  haste  ? 
Shakespeare 
In  my  own  house  await  me  many  great  ones,  who, 
solely  for  the  pleasure  of  my  company,  have  journeyed 
from  the  other  world  to  this. 


6  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

YORICK 

Trust  me  to  appease  your  guests  with  some  bottles 
of  Spanish  wine  which  1 11  dispatch  them  straight.  They 
say  this  precious  little  wine  raises  the  dead,  and  'twould 
be  sport  indeed  to  see  the  monarehs  of  England, 
assembled  in  your  room,  coming  on  a  sudden  back  to 
life,  and  falling  by  the  ears  to  see  the  which  of  them 
again  should  mount  the  throne.  Yet,  when  all's  done, 
how  can  they  be  more  fully  resurrected  than  they  already 
have  been  by  your  pen? 

Shakespeare 
What  would  you,  then? 

YORICK 

What  would  I,  faith,  save  only  to  delight  myself 
with  the  joy  of  seeing  in  my  house  and  in  my  arms  the 
renowned  poet,  great  Shakespeare,  pride  and  wonder  of 
England ! 

Throwing  his  arms  around  his  neck. 

Shakespeare 
Nay,  then,  thou  never-sufificiently-praised  comedian, 
festive  Yorick,  the  glory  and  joy  of  the  stage,  God  be 
with  you.    (Going.)     For  time's  ill  spent  in  soft  speech 
and  cajolery. 

Yorick 
But  you  shall  not  go  yet! 


act  i — scene  i  7 

Shae:espeare 
As  you  will-if  there 's  no  other  remedy-I  must  tarry. 

YORICK 

Sit  down. 

Shakespeare 
That 's  done ;  bethink  you  now  if  there 's  naught  else 
you  want. 

He  sits  down  near  the  table  and  leaves  upon  it  the 
manuscript. 

YORICK 

Frankly,    how    like    you    this    drama    we've    been 
hearing  ? 

He  sits  down  on  the  other  side  of  the  table  and,  while 
speaking,  leafs  over  the  manuscript. 
Shakespeare 
On  my  faith  it  pleased  me  much. 

YORICK 

And  'tis  the  first  work  of  that  youth  ? 

Shakespeare 
The  first. 

Yorick 
I,  too,  think  it  excellent,  altho  I  note  in  it  some 
trifling  faults. 

.  Shakespeare 
The  envious  will  catalog  its  faults ;  let  us  look  only 
at  its  beauty. 


8  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

YORICK 

Well  may  they  say  of  you  that  envy  never  scorched 
your  breast.  To  be  sure,  when  one  has  nothing  to 
envj'.  .  . 

Shakespeake 

You  are  persistent  today  with  your  praises ;  and  in 
this  last  you  err.  The  envious  man  ne'er  lacks  a  source 
of  envy.  Envy  sets  before  one's  eyes  a  pair  of  magic 
spectacles  through  which,  at  the  same  instant,  everything 
in  one's  self  looks  little  and  ugly,  and  everything  in 
others,  great  and  beautiful.  And  thus  you  will  observe 
that  the  wretches  who  wear  such  spectacles  do  envy  not 
alone  a  better  man,  but  also  one  beneath  them;  envious 
alike  of  good  things  and  of  bad.  'Twas  such  an  one, 
who,  on  a  time,  failing  to  discover  in  a  miserable  neigh- 
bor a  proper  source  of  envy,  went  and  envied — what 
think  youf — forsooth,  the  only  thing  the  poor  wretch 
possessed  to  attract  attention  to  himself,  a  fine  big  hump 
that  burdened  his  shoulders! 

YORICK 

"Well  enough  should  I  know  envy,  for  a  theatre  is  an 
admirable  nursery  for  it.  Did  you  ever  see  a  set  of 
greater  rascals  than  a  company  of  actors? 

Shakespeare 
Present  company  excepted,  you  should  add. 


ACT  1  —  SCENE  I  9 

YORICK 

No,  let  them  all  go  in,  and  let  him  'scape  who  can. 
What  murmurings  one  against  the  other,  each  more 
anxious  for  the  other 's  loss  than  for  his  own  gain !  How 
every  man  considers  himself  supreme  and  unique  in  his 
dominion  of  the  stage ! 

Shakespeare 

Emulation  may  beget  low  actions,  yet  'tis  through 
emulation  that  man  achieves  the  impossible.  Let  it  wal- 
low in  the  mire  if  it  will,  for  one  time  or  another  will 
it  rise  to  the  very  clouds. 

YORICK 

In  truth  you  were  most  wise  in  laying  down  the 
sceptre  of  an  actor  and  keeping  only  that  of  poet. 
Shakespeare 

And  yet  we  must  agree,  that  the  rule  you  make  is 
not  without  exceptions. 

YORICK 

Exceptions  may  be  found,  in  truth;  my  wife  and 
Edmund  prove  it.  Blessed  be  God  for  the  happiness  of 
seeing  my  good  deeds  rewarded  in  this  life!  Becavise  I 
was  generous  and  kind,  I  found  in  Alice  an  angelic  wife 
and  in  Edmund  a  friend — what  a  friend ! — a  son  full  of 
noble  qualities.  And  what  talent  have  they  both !  How 
they  play  Romeo  and  Juliet!  Divine  they  are — these 
heroes  to  whom  your  fancy  gave  being ;  still  more  divine 


10  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

when  Alice  and  Edmund  lend  them  human  form  and 
living  soul.    What  gestures,  what  glances,  what  revela- 
tion of  love  !    Mark  me,  'tis  truth  itself ! 
Shakespeare 
(Aside.)  Poor  Yoriek!     (Aloud.)  And  may  I  now 
take  leave  ? 

YORICK 

Nay,  first  permit  me  to  broach  a  matter  to  the 
director  of  my  theatre,  to  the  laurel-crowned  bard,  to 
the.  .  . 

Shakespeare 

By  Saint  George  I  swear  so  many  avowals  of  friend- 
ship begin  to  cloy  me;  'twas  stupid  of  me  not  to  guess 
you  sought  a  favor,  and  would  thus  pay  me  for  it  in 
advance. 

YORICK 

True  is  it  that  I  seek  a  favor. 
Shakespeare 
Name  it. 

Yorick 
That  would  I,  but  I  know  not  how. 

Shakespeare 
Nay,  speak  to  the  point. 

Yorick 
Tell  me  quite  frankly  your  opinion  of  my  merit  as 
an  actor. 


act  i  —  scene  1  11 

Shakespeare 
Tut !    As  tho  you  knew  it  not !    For  sad  and  melan- 
choly folk  there's  ne'er  a  medicine  so  potent  as  your 
presence  on  the  boards. 

YORICK 

And  think  you  I  serve  only  to  make  the  people 
laugh  ? 

Shakespeare 
I  think  that  that's  enough  for  your  glory. 

YORICK 

When  will  this  play  be  staged  ? 
Shakespeare 
Without  delay. 

YORICK 

Whom  then  have  you  in  mind  for  the  role  of  Count 
Octavio  ? 

Shakespeare 

'Tis  a  great  role,  and  tragic  par  excellence.  I  shall 
give  it  to  Walton,  who  in  such  parts  is  superlative. 

YoRICK 

Yea,  sure,  I  knew  it !  A  good  role,  for  whom  should 
it  be  if  not  for  Walton  1  What  luck  does  fall  on  knaves. 
Shakespeare 

Hark  you.  The  fruit  is  ruined  if,  in  early  ripening 
'tis  touched  by  frost ;  the  heart  is  ruined  if,  when  open- 
ing up  to  life,   'tis  chilled  by  disillusionment.     Walton 


12  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

was  most  unhappy  in  his  youth ;  he  should  be  pardoned. — 
And  now,  for  the  third  and  last  time,  good-bye  (Rising.) 

YORICK 

But  I  have  not  yet  said  .  .  .  (Also  rising.) 

Shakespeare 
Well,  say  it  and  have  done. 

YORICK 

So  I  shall.    I  should  like  .  .  .  but  sure  you  mustn't 
make  a  jest  of  me,  nor  .  .  . 

Shakespeare 
By  heaven,  speak,  nor  longer  strain  my  patience. 

YoRICK 

I  should  like  .  .  . 

Shakespeare 
What  ?  Out  with  it,  or  I  disappear  as  through  a  trap. 

YORICK 

I  should  like  to  play  that  role. 
Shakespeare 
What  role  ? 

YORICK 

The  one  in  the  new  drama. 

Shakespeare 
But  which  one? 

Yorick 
Why,  that  of  Count  Octavio,  in  sooth. 


The  husband? 

Yes. 

You? 

I. 


act  i  —  scene  1  13 

Shakespeare 

YORICK 

Shakespeare 

YORICK 


Shakespeare 
In  God's  name,  seek  a  hospital,  Yorick,  for  you  are 
in  a  parlous  state. 

Yorick 
Thus  talk  all  simpletons.  A  simpleton  were  I  if, 
knowing  only  your  tragic  works,  I  had  held  you  incapa- 
ble of  writing  pleasant  and  festive  comedies.  Because 
thus  far  I  have  plaj^ed  but  drolls  and  interludes,  am  I  to 
be  condemned  never  to  go  out  of  the  beaten  path? 

Shakespeare 
And  why  should  you  leave  it  for  the  unknown 
heights?  Thus  far  you  have  sought  to  cause  laughter 
and  the  public  has  laughed.  Woe  on  you  if  some  day 
you  set  out  to  make  it  weep,  and  the  public  continues 
to  laugh! 

Yorick 
Ingrate!  To  deny  so  simple  a  favor  to  one  who  has 
always  been  your  most  loyal  friend;  to  one  who  has 


14  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

always  loved  you  as  the  apple  of  his  eye !  'Tis  all  one ; 
let  another  play  the  role  of  Count;  but  in  that  case  we 
are  no  longer  friends,  nor  next  year  shall  I  be  in  the 
company  of  your  theatre.  And  with  me  I  shall  take  my 
Alice  .  .  .  and  Edmund  too.  We'll  see  which  of  us  two 
most  suffers.     (Very  much  moved.) 

Shakespeare 
What  a  string  of  words! 

YORICK 

No,  no,  think  not  to  fit  in  here  your  "words,  words, 
words"  of  Hamlet. 

Shakespeare 
Alas,  that  no  one  in  the  world  should  be  satisfied 
with  his  lot ! 

Yorick 
Ay,  verily,   'tis  fine  sport,  this  business  of  making 
sport  for  others. 

Shakespeare 
Speak  you   seriously?     Would  you  be   capable   of 
abandoning  me? 

Yorick 

Of  abandoning  you!     Did  I  say  that?     And  you 

don't  believe  it?     (Weeping.)     Come,  man,  come;  let's 

not  make  a  bad  matter  worse.     That  would  be  the  last 

straw.     That  you,  after  questioning  my  talent,  should 


ACT  I  —  SCENE  I  15 

question  also  my  love. No,  I  will  not  abandon  you. 

Yorick  may  not  know  how  to  feign  resentment,  but  he 
knows  how  to  feel  a  hurt.  .  .  You  offend  him,  humiliate 
him.  .  .  and  he — look — holds  out  his  arms  to  you. 

Shakespeare 
In  the  name  of  heaven!    Are  you  weeping? 

Yorick 
I  am  weeping  because  infernal  fate  balks  me  of  my 
ambition;  because  it  is  not  Walton  alone  who  holds  me 
for  a  gross  buffoon,  capable  only  of  tickling  the  stupid 
into  stupid  laughter ;  because  I  see  that  you  too  .  .  .  and 
that  it  is  that  hurts  me  most  .  .  .  that  you  too  .  ,  .  God 
help  me,  what  a  wretched  lot  is  mine ! 

Shakespeare 
Oh,  the  devil  take  you!    You  want  the  role  of  the 
husband?     Well,  it's  yours,  and  much  good  may  it  do 
you! 

Yorick 
With  great  joy,  suddenly  ceasing  his  weeping. 
In  truth?    You  speak  in  earnest? 

Shakespeare 

Yes ;  feed  full  that  cursed  ambition  of  yours,  from 
which  a  thousand  times  I  have  tried  in  vain  to  dissuade 
you. 

Walking  across  the  stage.    Yorick  follows  him. 


16  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS — A  NEW  DRAMA 

YORICK 

And  suppose  I  play  the  role  marvelously  ? 

Shakespe.vre 
And   suppose  the  night   of  the  first  performance 
they  hiss  you  off  the  stage? 

YoRICK 

For  a  mighty  pleasure    one    can  stand  a  mighty 
drubbing. 

Shakespeare 
And  how  well  you  would  deserve  it! 

YORICK 

Egad,  you  know,   when  we  get    an    idea    in    our 
heads  .... 

Shakespe.njie 
Nay,  faith,  you  aren  't  stubborn ! 

YoRICK 

Why,  man,    'twould  pleasure  me  to  do  it  well,  if 
only  to  prove  you  wrong. 

Shakespeare 
And  me,  to  'scape  from  saying  yoii  were  wrong. 

YORICK 
Nay,  then,  be  off  with  you ! 
Shakespeare 
Taking  his  hat  and  going  toward  the  rear. 
Nothing  likes  me  better. 


ACT  I  —  SCENE  I  17 

YORICK 

With  a  tone  of  comic  threat,  detaining  Mm. 
Be  assured,  you  shall  run  through  this  with  me. 

Shakespeare 
What  should  liinder  us?     (Warmly.) 

YoRICK 

Nay,  seriously,  most  seriously. 
Shakespeare 
Ay,  most,  most  seriously ! 

YoRICK 

With  great  formality. 
In  perfect  frankness,  William,  if  in  this  role  I  come 
to  win  applause  .  .  . 

Shakespeare 
What  then  ? 

YORICK 

My  joy  will  be  very  great, 

Shakespeare 
In  perfect  frankness,  Yoriek,  not  greater  than  mine 
own. 

With  sincerity  and  tenderness,  giving  his  hand  to 

Yoriek.     The  latter  takes  it,  much  moved,  and 

then  embraces  him.     Shakespeare  goes 

out  at  rear. 


18  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 


SCENE  TWO 

YORICK 

"It  is  so  easy  to  cause  laughter",  they  said  to  me 
last  night — "Walton  and  the  rest.  They'll  see  right  soon 
that  when  the  time  comes  I  can  bring  the  tears  as  well. 
They'll  see  it  and  the}' '11  storm;  when  I,  no  more  with 
mirth,  but  now  with  tragic  passions,  compel  the  public's 
bravos  and  applause.  (He  takes  from  the  fop  of  the 
table  the  manuscript.)  None  the  less,  one  must  proceed 
with  plentiful  caution,  because  the  blessed  role  of  Count 
Octavio  is  just  a  trifle  difficult,  and  at  the  slightest 
stumbling  one  might  take  a  fall  and  destroy  himself. 

"Tremble,  thou  faithless  spouse!  ..." 
(Reading  in  the  manuscript.)  Here's  where  the  big 
scene  comes.  One  Signor  Rodolfo  or  Pandolfo  .  .  . 
Landolfo,  Landolfo  is  his  name, — (Finding  this  name  in 
the  manuscript.), — a  sly  knave,  delivers  to  the  Count  a 
letter  whieli  proves  that  Manfredo,  to  wliom  he  has  been 
a  father,  is  the  lover  of  his  wife,  the  enchanting  Beatrice. 
The  Count  was  jealous  of  ever}'  living  creature  except 
this  fine  young  squire ;  and  when  at  last  his  house  of 
cards  comes  tumbling  about  liis  ears,  he  is  left,  poor 
fellow,  as  stupefied  as  if  the  world  were  falling  on  him. 


ACT  I  —  SCENE  II  19 

' '  Tremble,  thou  faithless  spouse  !  thou  ingrate,  tremble ! 
Destroyer  of  my  honor  and  my  peace ! 
Vain  was  thy  craft — behold  the  damning  proof! 
(He  opens  the  letter.) 

My  blood  is  freezing. 
(Without  daring  to  look  at  the  letter.) 

Let  it  flame  with  wrath! 
Woe  be  to  him — the  infamous  wretch — for  whom 
Thou  blindly  dost  defile  me. 
Alas !  what  do  I  see !    A  thousand  devils ! 
(He  fixes  his  glance  on  the  letter,  gives  a  horrible  cry, 
and  falls  on  a  bench  as  tho  struck  by  lightning. ) ' '  (From 
"Tremble,  thou    faithless    spouse"  up    to    this    point, 
reading  in  the  manuscript;  the  stage  directions  in  a  tone 
different  from  that  of  the  verses.)     Now  to  see  how  I 
manage  that  yell. 

He  takes  an  affectedly  tragic  attitude,  doubles  up  the 
manuscript  so  that  it  may  serve  as  a  letter,  and 

declaims  stupidly  with  ridiculous  intonation. 

"Woe  be  to  him — the  infamous  wretch — for  whom 

Thou  blindly  dost  defile  me. 

Alas!  what  do  I  see!  ..." 

(Giving  a  discordant  yell.)     No  .  .  .   'tis  true,  I  do  it 

less  than  perfectly  as  yet. — ' '  Oh  ! "   (Giving  a  yell  worse 

than  before.)     Bad,  unconscionably  bad ;   'tis  thus  one 

yells    when    someone    treads    upon    his    foot. — "Oh!" 


20  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

(Yelling  again.)  Nay,  no  human  noise  that — 'tis  the 
croaking  of  some  great  bird.  Bah !  Later  with  the  heat 
of  the  situation  .  .  .  Let's  see  here  .  .  . 

"So  then,  'tis  thou  who  art  the  villain.  ..." 
Too  weak. 

"So  then,  'tis  thou  who  art  the  villain.  ..." 
Too  strong. 

"So  then,  'tis  thou  who  art  the  villain.  ..." 
Nay,  the  villain  I,  the  madman  I,  at  my  age  to  insist  on 
going  counter  to  my  nature  and  old  custom. — Perhaps 
now  the  fault's  not  altogether  mine.  .  .  .  Perhaps  the 
author  is  somewhat  to  blame.  .  .  .  These  poets  sometimes 
write  the  veriest  stuff.  .  .  . 

"So  then,  'tis  thou  who  art  the  villain.  ..." 
Beshrew  me,  how  to  say't  aright!  What  if  William's 
prophecy  be  fulfilled,  and  they  hiss  me.  .  .  .  No,  I'll 
not  consider  that.  I  should  die  of  rage  and  shame. 
Well,  we'll  see  what  happens.  Away  with  fear!  Set 
on!  (Pause,  during  which  he  reads  in  a  low  tone  from 
the  manuscript,  making  facial  expressions  and  gestures.) 
Ay,  now  begin  I  to  like  my  rendering.  I  perceive  that 
in  a  low  tone  everything  I  say  sounds  wondrous  fine. 
Oh,  I  '11  carry  it  off  triumphantly !  Faith,  I  '11  do  it  to 
suit  the  Queen's  taste! — Ah,  is  it  you!  Come  hither, 
Edmund,  come.  (To  Edmund,  who  appears  in  the  door 
at  rear.)    Do  you  not  know? 


ACT  I — SCENE  III  21 

SCENE  THREE 

YoRiCK  AND  Edmund 

Edmund 
As  tho  frightened. 
What? 

YORICK 

That  in  this  piece  you  look  upon,  I  have  a  great  role. 
Aside. 
' '  Thou  ingrate,  tremble ! ' ' 
Edmund 
I  am  heartily  pleased,  sir. 

YORICK 

For  some  time  past  instead  of  father,  you  have 
called  me  Sir,  and  vainly  have  I  chidden  you  for  it. 

Aside. 

"Tremble,  thou  faithless  spouse!"  .  .  . 

Aloud. 

Have  I  unwittingly  given  you  cause  to  deny  me  a  name 

so  dear? 

Edmund 
It  is  I  who  am  unworthy  to  pronounce  it. 


22  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS — A  NEW  DRAMA 

YORICK 

Whence  comes  this  now?    Alas,  Edmund,  you  are 
losing  your  affection  for  me ! 

Edmund 
What  could  lead  you  to  imagine  it? 

YORICK 

You  were  less  reserved  with  me  if  you  loved  me  as 
of  old 

Edmund 
How  say  you  I  am  reserved  with  you? 

YORICK 

In  not  telling  me  the  cause  of  your  sadness. 

Edmund 
I,  sad? 

YORICK 

Sad  and  full  of  unrest.    I  '11  wager  you  're  in  love ! 

Edmund 
In  love  ?    I !  .  .  .    Do  you  suppose  .  .  . 

YORICK 

One  would  think  I  had  charged  you  with  a  crime. 

(Smiling.)    Ah !     (With  sudden  seriousness.)   Love  may 

be  a  crime.    Do  you  love  a  married  woman  ? 

Seizing  him  by  tJie  hand. 

Edmund 

Changing  color. 

Oh! 


ACT  I  —  SCENE  III  23 

YORICK 

You  are  pale.  .  .  .  Your  hand  trembles  .  .  . 

Edmund 
Yes  .  .  .  truly.  .  .  .  But  indeed  you  look  on  me  in 
such  a  fashion  .  .  . 

YORICK 

Our  conscience  must  be  carrying  a  bit  of  a  burden 
if  a  glance  frightens  us.  Consider  well ;  he  who  robs  a 
man  of  his  estate  does  him  less  damage  than  he  who  robs 
him  of  his  honor ;  he  who  wounds  his  body,  than  he  who 
wounds  his  soul.  Edmund,  be  not  guilty  of  that.  .  .  . 
Oh,  my  son,  not  that,  for  God's  sake ! 

Edmund 
Your  fear  has  no  foundation,  be  assured. 

YORICK 

I  believe  you.  You  are  incapable  of  deceiving 
me. — Now  then,  without  more  ado,  this  drama  sets  forth 
the  great  misfortunes  caused  by  the  frailty  of  a  wife; 
and  look  you,  not  even  tho  it  be  as  a  fiction  of  the  stage 
does  it  please  me  that  Alice  have  to  play  the  role  of 
guilty  wife,  and  you  the  part  of  treacherous  seducer. 

Edmund 
Trying  to  dissimulate. 
Is't  so? 


24  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

YORICK 

With  comic  emphasis. 
And  I  shall  be  the  outraged  husband ! 
Edmtjnd 
Allowing  himself  to  he  carried  away  hy  his  emotion. 
You! 

YORICK 

Myself,  truly.  .  .  .  Why  are  you  surprised?  Are 
you  too  one  of  those  who  think  I  cannot  play  a  serious 
role? 

Edmund 

Nay,  sir,  nay,  but  .  .  . 

YORICK 

'Tis  true  I'll  have  to  struggle  against  odds. — Verily, 
now  I  think  on't,  no  other  role  than  that  of  jealous  hus- 
band would  satisfy  me ;  because  to  this  day  I  am  yet  to 
learn  what  kind  of  little  worm  this  jealousy  may  be. 
Constrained  to  toil  continuously  since  babyhood,  and 
later  having  fallen  in  love  with  fame,  fame  only  was 
the  mistress  of  my  affections;  until,  my  head  then  turn- 
ing white,  my  heart,  through  strange  and  happy  chance, 
revealed  itself  still  young,  by  offering  a  woman  the 
homage  of  a  burning  adoration.  And  Alice — well  you 
know  it — has  never  to  this  moment  caused  me  jealousy, 
nor  will  she  e'er  in  all  her  life.  It  is  not  possible  to 
distrust  so  noble  a  creature.    Is 't  not  so  ? 


ACT  I — SCENE  m  25 

Edmund 
Ay,  sir;  it  is  not  possible.  .  .  . 

YORICK 

You  speak  it  coldly.  Hark  you,  Edmund.  I  do  ill 
in  hiding  from  you  what  for  some  time  past  I  have 
observed. 

Edmund 

Somewhat  you  have  observed?    What  then,  pray? 

YORICK 

That  Alice  seems  to  win  no  smallest  part  of  your 
affection;  perchance  you  even  look  upon  her  with 
aversion. 

Edmund 
Very  much  disturbed. 
This    you    have    observed?  .  .  .     How     strange     a 
fancy !  .  .  . 

YORICK 

Nor  is  the  motive  hidden  from  my  eyes.  You 
reigned  alone  in  my  heart  before  Alice  became  my  wife, 
and  it  annoys  you  now  to  find  another  sharing  it  with 
you.  Vain  fellow !  Promise  me  you  will  make  peace 
with  her  this  day.  Indeed,  henceforward  you  shall  call 
her  Alice.  'Twere  better  even  that  you  call  her  mother ; 
or  if  not  mother,  since  her  age  befits  it  not,  pray  call 
her  sister,  for  brother  and  sister  surely  you  should  be, 
both  having  the  same  father.        Embracing  him. 


26  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Edmund 
Aside. 
What  torture! 

YORICK 

You  are  weeping?  Come,  come,  weep  not  .  .  . 
weep  not,  lest  you  would  have  me  likewise.  .  .  .  (Wip- 
ing his  tears  with  his  hand.)  And  would  j'ou  know  my 
thought?  'Tis  this,  that  if  in  you  the  jealousy  of  a  son 
is  so  keen,  a  lover's  jealousy  must  be  something  fright- 
ful. They  say  no  passion's  stronger  than  this  jealous}^, 
that  absolute  it  dominates  the  soul;  that  from  the 
mind  it  sweeps  all  other  thoughts. 
Edmund 

All  other  thoughts!    Ay,  sir,  all  other  thoughts. 

YORICK 

So  then  you  have  been  jealous  of  a  woman  ?  What 
joy !  Thus  can  you  help  me  with  the  role  of  jealous 
husband;  explaining  how  this  passion,  strange  to  me, 
may  breed  and  be  developed  in  the  heart;  what  kind  of 
torments  it  causes;  by  what  external  signs  it  shows 
itself;  everything,  in  short,  that  any  way  belongs  to  it. 
Begin  now  by  reading  this  scene  for  me.  (Giving  him 
the  open  manuscript.)  From  here.  (Pointing  to  the 
place.)    Begin. 

Edmund 

"So  then  'tis  thou  who  art  the  villain.  ..." 


ACT  I  —  SCENE  111  27 

YORICK 

'Tis  what  I  say  to  you. 
Edmund  changes  color  and  continues  to  read  stupidly 
and  faintly. 

Edmund 
**The  treacherous,  the  perfidious.  ..." 

YoRICK 

Boy,  boy!     Look  you,  it  could  not  be  worse  done. 
More  force !     More  vehemence ! 

Edmund 
"The  infamous  seducer  who  dost  dare.  ..." 

YoRICK 

Fire !    More  fire ! 

Edmund 
*'To  torture  thus  the  heart  of  an  old  man." 

YORICK 

Today  you  are  not  equal  to  it.     Give  it  to  me. 
(Taking  the  manuscript  from  him.)     Listen. 

"So  then   'tis  thou  who  art  the  villain  thou, 

The  treacherous,  the  perfidious — ay,  thou, 

The  infamous  seducer " 


28  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

SCENE  FOUR 

The  Aforesaid  and  Walton 

Walton 
From  the  door  at  rear. 
Who  is  raging  hereabouts? 

YORICK 

Closing  the  manuscript. 
Walton ! 

Walton 
Wert  quarreling  with  Edmund? 

YORICK 

I  was  quarreling  with  no  one. 

Walton 
On  entering,  it  seemed  to  me  I  heard  .  .  . 

YORICK 

Aside. 
Already,  sure,  he  knows  it,  and  comes  to  pick 
a  quarrel. 

Walton 
I  'd  swear  you  greet  me  with  small  pleasure. 

YORICK 

Because  I  divine  your  intentions. 

Walton 
'Tis  divining,  is  it? 


ACT  1  —  SCENE  IV  29 

YORICK 

Let  us  spare  words :  what  brings  you  hither  ? 

Walton 
If  you  know  it,  why  ask  me? — But  wherefore  art 
thou   standing,   Master  Walton    (Addressing   himself.) 
Here  thou  hast  a  chair.     (Taking  a  chair  and  placing  it 
in  the  center.)     Gramercy! 

Seating  himself. 

YORICK 

Look  you  now !    As  for  me,  you  need  not  come  with 
raillery,  for  if  I  grow  angry.  .  .  . 

Walton 
Oh,  then!  ....   'Tis  well.  ...  Ay,  verily!     Why, 
he  has  the  temper  of  a  tiger.  ...    Is 't  not  so,  Edmund  t 

Edmund 
Eh?  ...  . 

YORICK 

Wouldst  flout  at  me  ? 

Edmund 
Flout  at  you  ?  ....  He  ? 

Walton 
'Tis  altogether  fitting  that  you  defend  your  friend 
Yorick,   your   protector,   your   second   father.  .  .  .  Oh, 
this  boy 's  a  treasure  !     (Addressing  Yorick.)     And  how 
I  do  esteem  these  grateful  fellows! 


30  tamayo  y  baits  —  a  new  drama 

Edmund 
Without  being  able  to  contain  himself  and  with  a 

threatening  air. 
Walton ! 

Walton 
Praise  troubles  you? 

Edmund 
Aside. 
What's  his  intent? 

Walton 
Well,    'tis  plain  you  all  have   trodden  on  thorns 
today.    Good-bye.    (Rising.)    You  are  the  loser. 

YORICK 

I  am  the  loser.  .  .  .  How? 
Walton 
No  matter.     I  came  in  search  of  a  friend,  I  find  a 
fool,  and  I  take  my  leave. 

YoRICK 

A  fool  you  call  me? 

Walton 
Nothing  more  apt  occurred  to  me. 

YORICK 

You  have  seen  Shakespeare? 
Walton 
No,  but  r  saw  the  author  of  the  new  drama. 


ACT  I  —  SCENE  IV  31 

YORICK 

Well? 

Walton 

Shakespeare,  on  leaving  here,  chanced  on  him  and 
told  him  that  in  his  piece  'twas  you  must  take  the  role  of 
husband. 

YORICK 

Ah!     Now  do  we  begin  to  understand  each  other. 

Walton 
The  author  was  like  one  who  sees  a  nightmare. 

YoRICK 

A  tolerable  nightmare,  he  himself. 

Walton 
And  hugely  angered ;  he  came  to  my  house  to  set 
me    on    to    claim    a    role    which    was,    in    his    opinion, 
mine.  .  .  . 

YORICK 

And  you.  .  .    Well?  .  .  .    You.  .  . 

Walton 
I.  .  .  .  (As  if  making  a  violent  effort  to  control 
himself.)  I  wish  you  to  loiow  the  truth  ....  At  first 
I  was  filled  with  wrath ;  then  I  saw  that  I  was  in  the 
wrong,  and  said  I  to  the  poet.  .  .  .  But  why  should  I 
weary-  myself  with  telling  you?  .... 

Takes  a  few  steps  toward  rear. 


32  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

YORICK 

Nay,  ,  .  Hear  me.  Come  hither.  .  .  (He  seizes 
him  by  the  hand  and  drags  him  toward  front.)  What 
said  you  to  him? 

Walton 

I  told  him  that  you  were  my  friend,  that  an  actor 
of  your  merit  and  experience  could  play  well  any  kind 
of  role,  so  he  but  bent  his  mind  to  it ;  that  I  would  play 
the  role  of  confidant,  wliicli,  being  odious,  is  most 
difficult;  that  I  would  aid  you  with  my  counsels,  would 
you  accept  them.  .  .  .    Good-bye.  .  . 

As  tho  taking  leave,  and  starting  toward  the  rear. 

YoRICK 

Nay  then,  come  hither,  )nan,  come  hither,  (Detain- 
ing him  and  dragging  him  to  front  as  before.)  You  said 
that?  .  .  . 

Walton 

And  when  I   come,  at  peace  with  myself,  to  give 

you  the  news,  I  am  received  with  a  face  like  vinegar 

and  words  like  gall.  .  .  .     Perforce  I  had  to  i)ay  you 

in  the  same  coin.     The  fault's  your  own,  and  so  ...  . 

Again  going  toward  rear. 

YORICK 

Heydey,  you  must  not  go.  (Stopping  him  and 
drawing  him  down  once  more.)  This  that  you  tell  me 
is  so  rare.  .  .  . ! 


act  i  —  scene  iv  33 

Walton 
And  why  is  it  so  rare?    Let's  hear. 

YORICK 

It  seemed  most  natural  that  you  should  be  displeased 
to  lose  the  chance  of  gaining  a  new  triumph,  and  on 

the  other  hand  that  I 

Walton 

The  temple  of  glory  is  so  great  that  it  has  not  yet 
been  filled  nor  will  it  ever  be. 

YORICK 

With  that  villainous  temper  of  yours.  .  .  . 

Walton 
I  am  reputed  peevish  because  I  lack  the  skill  to 
lie  and  make  pretense. 

YORICK 

In  truth  then,  it  galls  you  not  to  have  me  play  the 
role  of  Count  Oetavio  in  that  drama  ? 
Walton 
Nay,  as  I  have  said. 

YORlCK 

And  you  will  play  the  role  of  confidant? 

Walton 
Yea,  as  I  have  said. 

YORICK 

And  wilt  help  me  with  my  role  ? 


34  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Walton 
Your  doubts  offend  me. 

YORICK 

Edmund,  hear  vou  this? 

Walton 
Let's    see,    now,    if    for   once    I    succeed   in    being 
appreciated  at  ray  real  wortli. 

YoRICK 

Why,  look  you,  here's  the  truth,  I've  always  taken 
you  to  be  a  rogue. 

Walton 
Thus  are  men  judged  in  this  our  world. 

YORICK 

To  confess  one's  faults  is  the  beginning  of  reform; 
and  now  if  you  would  cudgel  me  a  bit.  .  .  . 

W.VLTON 

I'  faith,  I  ought. 

YORICK 

About    it,    then;    don't    hesitate.      In    charity    I 
prithee  lay  on  one  blow  at  least. 

Walton 
Nay,  have  done. 

YORICK 

Well,  give  me  your  hand. 


act  i  —  scene  iv  35 

Walton 
They  shake  hands  warmly. 
That  I  will. 

YORICK 

And  I  who  would  have  sworu  ....  Ah!  He  who 
thinks  ill  deserves  never  to  be  mistaken.  Have  you 
some  business  toward? 

Walton 

None  in  the  world. 

YORICK 

'Twould  please  me  greatly  to  hear  you  read  the  role 
before  I  set  about  to  con  it ! 

Walton 
Well,  if  you  wish  it,  so  far  as  I'm  concerned.  .  .  . 

YORICK 

If  I  wish  it?  Why,  of  course,  I  wish  it.  I  wish 
naught  else.  Forsooth,  you  leave  me  amazed  at  such 
unbounded  goodness  and  nobility!  Who  would  have 
dreamed  that  you.  .  .  . 

Walton 
With  wrath. 
Back  at  your  old  tricks  ? 

YORICK 

No,  no.  .  .  .  On  the  contrary.  ...  I  meant.  .  .  . 
Devil  take  me,  let's  go  to  my  room.  .  .  .  There  we'll 


36  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

shut  ourselves  in  and.  .  .  .  Frankly :  the  role  of  out- 
raged husband  seems  to  be  somewhat  difficult  .... 

Walton 
You   mistake.     The   role   of   outraged  husband   is 
played    mthout    the    slightest    difficulty.      I'll    wager 
Edmund  agrees  with  me? 

Edmund 
I?  .  .  .  .  (Aside)   What  is  he  saying? 

YORICK 

With  your  instruction  all  will  be  easy  for  me.  And 
tell  me,  you  will  school  me  in  some  of  those  inflections 
which  gain  you  such  magnificent  effects? 

Walton 

Assuredly. 

YORICK 

And  in  those  swift  transitions  which  always  wia 
applause  for  you  ? 

Walton 
Idle  question. 

YORlCK 

And  that  manner  of  feigning  tears  by  which  you 
make  the  public  weep? 

Walton 
Yes,  man,  yes;  all  that  you  may  wish. 

YORICK 

And  think  you  in  the  end  that  I  shall  win  .  .  .? 


act  i  —  scene  iv  37 

Walton 
You'll  win  a  triumph, 

YORICK 

Ruhhing  his  hands  with  joy. 
In  sober  earnest? 

Walton 
Not  even  you  yourself  do  know  your  powers. 

YORICK 

With  joy  that  scarcely  permits  him  to  speak. 
But,  man  .... 

Walton 
Oh,  I  pique  myself  on  knowing  actors. 

YORICK 

And  so  you  do  indeed !....!  should  set  myself 
to  dancing — this  joy's  too  great  for  words!  Come,  let's 
go  in.  (Taking  Walton  toward  the  right.  Then  he 
runs  to  Edmund.  Walton  remains  awaiting  him.)  But 
Edmund,  can  you  see  me  so  elated,  and  will  not  share 
my  happiness?  Be  joyous,  in  heaven's  name.  I'd  have 
the  wliole  world  joyous. 

"So  then   'tis  thou  who  art  the  villain.  ..." 
Walton 

Come,  let  us  lose  no  time  .... 

YORICK 

Yes,  yes,  let  us  not  lose.  .  .  .  (Running  toward 
Walton.)  Nay,    the    thing    I    lose    today    is    sure    my 


38  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

head !  .  .  .  Oh,  hark  you !  (Returning  rapidly  to 
Edmund  and  speaking  in  a  low  tone.)  Even  tho  he  lend 
me  aid  with  the  role,  I  do  not  renounce  yours.  ...  eh? 
(He  goes  to  the  center  and  there  stops.)  "With  two  such 
masters  ....  (Talking  to  himself  and  indicating 
Edmund  and  Walton.)  and  with  "William  on  the  top  o' 
these  .  .  .  and,  too,  the  fact  that  I'm  no  fool  .... 
"Tremble,  thou  faithless  spouse  I  thou  ingrate,  tremble !" 
There's  no  doubt  about  it.  111  do"t  di\^nely!  (Leaping 
for  joy.)  Did  I  not  say  as  much  ?  Already  I  am 
capering  with  joy,  like  any  stripling. 

Walton 
But  will  you  never  come  ?  .  .  .  . 
YORICK 

Yes,  yes,  let's  on. 

Yorick  and  Walton  go  out  at  right. 

SCENE  FIVE 

Edmund,  and  shortly  afterward  Alice 

Edmund 

"What  must  I  think  ?    Does  "Walton  know  my  secret  ? 

God  forbid  I    Was  he  speaking  without  malice,  or  with 

base   intent?     Always    to    fear,    to   tremble    at    every 

whisper!     How  timorous  is  guilt!     Oh,  what  a  life  the 

guilty  lead ! 

He  sits   near  the  table,  on   which  he  leans  his  arms, 


ACT  I  —  SCENE  V  39 

allowing  his  head  to  fall   iipoi  them.     Alice  comes 

from  the  door  at  left  and  on  seeing  him  in  that 

attitude  shudders  and  runs  toward  him,  terrified. 

Alice 

Edmund,  what's  this?    What  has  happened  to  you? 

What  is  the  matter? 

Edmund 
You  too,  poor  girl,  forever  trembling,  even  as  I ! 

Alice 
What  can  I  do  but  tremble  ?    One  struggles  not  with 
conscience  without  fear. 

Edmund 
And  must  we  always  live  thus?    Tell  me,  in  pity's 
name ;  is  this  life  ? 

Alice 
You  ask  me  this?  It  may  be  one  could  count  the 
moments  of  the  day;  but  not  the  griefs  and  frights  I 
suffer  in  the  day.  If  some  one  looks  at  me,  I  say:  He 
knows  it.  If  one  draws  near  my  husband,  I  say:  He 
is  about  to  tell  him.  In  every  face  methinks  I  find  a 
threatening  look;  the  innocentest  word  re-echoes  in  my 
bosom  like  a  threat.  The  light  makes  me  afraid ;  I  fear 
it  will  expose  my  conscience.  The  darkness  frightens 
me ;  for  in  its  midst  my  conscience  seems  a  still  more 
shadowy  thing.  At  times  I  would  take  oath  that  here 
upon  my  brow  I  feel  the  brand  of  sin;  I  want  to  touch 


40  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS A  NEW  DRAMA 

it  with  my  hand,  and  hardly  can  I  ban  the  fixed  illusion 
by  looking  on  myself  within  the  glass.  Now  all  my 
strength's  exhausted;  my  heart  no  longer  wills  to  go 
on  suffering.  Even  the  hour  that's  welcomed  by  the 
weary  brings  me  new  terrors.  "What  torment!  Alas, 
if  I  sleep,  perchance  I'll  dream  of  him;  perchance  his 
name  will  escape  my  lips;  perhaps  I'll  cry  aloud  that 
I  love  him !  And  if  at  last  I  sleep  despite  myself,  then 
I  am  still  more  wretched,  for  the  vague  fears  of  my 
waking  hours  take  on  in  sleep  the  vivid  form  of  dread 
reality.  And  again  it  is  day;  and  the  bitterness  of 
yesterday  which  seemed  so  limitless  is  outdone  by 
today's;  and  the  bitterness  of  today,  seeming  to  crowd 
upon  the  infinite,  is  ever  outdone  by  tomorow's.  To 
weep,  oh,  how  much  I  have  wept !  How  sighed !  I  have 
no  longer  tears  nor  sighs  to  console  me.  You  come? — 
what  fear !  What  longing  to  have  you  gone  !  You  leave 
me  ?  "What  disquietude,  what  longing  for  your  coming ! 
You  come  again,  and  when  as  now  I  talk  with  you  alone, 
it  seems  my  words  resound  so  loud  that  they  can 
everywhere  be  heard.  The  flutter  of  an  insect  stops  my 
blood;  everywhere,  meseems,  are  ears  that  hear,  eyes 
that  see,  and  I  know  not  where  to  turn  mine  own.  .  .  . 
(Looking  with  terror  in  one  direction  and  another.) 
and.  ...  Oh  !     (Cries  out.) 


act  i  —  scene  v  41 

Edmund 
What  ?     Speak ! 
With  fear  and  anxiety,  looking  in  the  same  direction 
as  Alice. 
Alice 
Nothing!     My  shadow — ray  shadow,  which  seemed 
to  me  an  accusing  witness.    And  you  would  ask  me  if 
this  be  life?     Edmund,  how  can  it  be?    It  is  not  life — 
not  life.    It  is  but  death  on  death. 
Edmund 
Alice,  be  calm,  and  think  on  this :  had  you  but  more 
of  guilt,  you  would  believe  yourself  less  guilty.    For  sin 
seems  ever  horrible  when  virtue  gleams  beside  it  still. 

Alice 
Oh,  tell  me  not  of  virtue.    Merely  by  loving  you  I 
trample   every    duty   under   foot;    I   offend   earth   and 
heaven.     Save  me!     0  save  me  as  a  strong  man  saves  a 
helpless  woman. 

Edmund 
Oh,  yes,  we  must  both  be  saved!  But  how?  To 
see  my  Alice,  my  heart's  idol,  and  not  to  speak  with 
her;  to  speak  with  her  and  tell  her  not  I  love  her;  to 
cease  to  love  her,  having  loved  her  once !  .  .  .  .  What 
folly !  what  madness !  Still  every  day  I  cheer  myself  in 
forming  high  resolves  with  no  intention  of  fulfilling 
them;  thus  does  one  give  the  devil  cause  for  laughter. 


42  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

I  set  myself  the  task  that  everyone  proposes  in  such 
straits:  to  turn  love  into  friendship.  And  love  that 
strives  to  abate  itself,  grows  ever  greater.  Love  is  not 
to  be  turned  to  friendship ;  forsooth  it  may  be  changed 
to  odium  as  deep  and  active  as  itself.  To  love  you  less — 
the  thought  infuriates,  maddens  me.  To  love  you  with 
delirium,  or  to  liate  with  frenzy,  there  is  no  other  w^ay. 
Let  us  face  it.    Tell  me,  how  could  I  come  to  hate  you? 

Alice 

Whole  days  I,  too,  spend  planning  means  to  break 
this  tyrant  of  my  will.  If  only  Edmund  loved  another 
woman,  I  tell  myself,  'twould  settle  all.  And  at  the 
mere  thought  of  seeing  you  at  the  side  of  another  woman, 
I  tremble  with  anger;  nay,  compared  with  that  grief 
there's  none  which  does  not  in  my  eyes  seem  joy.  I  set 
myself  to  asking  God  that  you'll  forget  me,  and  presently 
I  find  myself  imploring  Him  to  make  you  love  me.  No 
longer  can  I  fight  this  losing  battle.  I  know  myself  an 
ingrate  to  the  best  of  men — I  love  you.  I  know  my 
vileness — yet  I  love  you.  Save  me,  I  said — when  my 
salvation's  only  this — to  love  you  not.  You  can  not 
save  me. 

Edmund 

Alice !    Alice,  my  darling ! 
Alice 

Edmund!  (They  are  ahout  to  embrace,  and  stop, 
hearing  a  noise  in  the  hackground.)    Oh,  stay ! 


ACT  I  —  SCENE  VI  43 


SCENE  SIX 


The  Same,  and  Shakespeare 
Later,  Yorick  and  Walton 

Shakespeare 
Blessed  be  God  that  I  find  you  alone.    I  was  seeking 
you. 

Edmund 
Whom  ....  me?     (With  suspicion.) 

Shakespeare 
You,  and  her. 

Alice 
Both  of  us? 

Shakespeare 
Both. 

Edmund 
Heavens!     (Aside.) 

Alice 
Dear  God !     (Aside.) 

Shakespeare 
Can  I  speak  without  fear  of  being  overheard? 

Edmund 
So  secret,  then,  is  what  you  have  to  tell  us  ? 

Shakespeare 
Would  I  were  deaf  to  it  myself! 


44  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drxvma 

Alice 
What's  to  come?     (Aside.) 
Edmund 
Speak,  but  have  a  care  what  'tis  you  speak. 

Shakespeare 
Nay,  it  is  for  you  to  have  a  care. 
Fixing  him  with  a  look. 
Edmund 
I  cannot  tolerate  .... 

Shakespeare 
Silence,  and  listen.     (Imperiously.) 

Edmund 
Oh! 
Lowering  his  head,  dominated  by  the  tone  and  attitude 
of  Shakespeare. 
Shakespeare 
I  should  long  since  have  ventured  what  today  I  do 
from  hard  compulsion.     I  was  a  coward.     These  curst 
conventions  that  turn  good  men  to  cowards !    I  no  longer 
hesitate:     I  regard  nothing.     Edmund,  you  love  that 
woman. 

Edmund 
I?  .  .  .  . 

Shakespeare 
Alice,  you  love  him. 


act  i  —  scene  vi  45 

Alice 
Ah  !     (With  fright  and  grief.) 

Edmund 
By  what  right  dare  you.  .  .  .? 
Shakespeare 
By  the  right  that's  given  me  as  the  friend  of  your 
father,  the  friend  of  her  husband. 
Edmund 
And  if  it  is  not  true — if  they've  deceived  you? 

Alice 
They  have  deceived  you,  doubt  it  not. 

Shakespeare 
Hj^pocrisy  and  guilt  are  twin  sisters.  Come  here. 
(Seizing  Alice  hy  one  hand  and  drawing  her  near.) 
And  you.  (Seizing  Edmund^  and  placing  him  opposite 
her.)  Raise  your  head,  Edmund.  You,  yours.  (Lift- 
ing their  heads.)  Look  at  each  other  face  to  face  with 
the  calmness  of  innocence.  Look ! — Ah !  you  were  pale  : 
why  blush  you  now  ?  Before,  the  color  of  remorse ;  and 
now,  of  shame. 

Alice 
Pity! 

Edmund 
Enough!     (With  profound  grief.) 

ArjCE 
So  sudden  were  vour  words  .... 


46  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Edmund 
The  charge  has  fallen  on  us  like  a  thunderbolt. 

Alice 
We  were  afraid. 

Edmund 
I'll  tell  you  all  the  truth. 
Alice 
Ay,  it  is  truth — he  loves  me,  I  love  him. 

Edmund 
You  are  noble  and  generous. 

Alice 
You  will  have  pity  on  two  unhappy  beings. 

Edmund 
Nor  wish  to  increase  our  misery. 

Alice 
Nay,  so,  you  will  protect  us,  you  will  defend  us 
against  our  very  selves. 

Shakespeare 
Come,  my  children,  be  calm. 

Alice 
Children  he  calls  us.    Do  you  hear? 

Edmund 
"We'll  throw  ourselves  at  your  feet. 
Alice 
Starting  to  kneel. 
Yea! 


act  i  —  scene  vi  47 

Shab:espeare 
Opening  his  arms. 
No,  better  will  ye  be  in  my  arms. 

Edmund 
Restraining  himself  with  shamefaced  diffidence. 
William!  .... 

Alice 
With  joy. 
Is  it  possible  ? 

Shakespeare 
Come. 

Edmund 
Throwing  himself  into  Ms  arms. 
Save  us! 

Alice 
Throwing  herself  also  into  Shakespeare's  arms. 
Save  us,  in  pity's  name! 

Shakespeare 

Yes,  with  God's  aid  I  will  save  you. 

A  pause  during  which  one  hears  the  sohs  of  Edmund 

and  Alice. 

Alice 

But  what's  this*     You  are  weeping? 

Shakespeare 
Seeing  tears,  what  can  one  do  but  weep  ? 


48  tamayo  y  baus — a  new  drama 

Alice 
Edmund,  it  is  a  protector  that  Heaven  sends  us. 
And  we  wanted  to  deceive  him,  we  wanted  to  reject  him ! 
How  blind  are  the  wretched!    To  have  a  friend  to  com- 
fort us,  to  take  upon  himself  some  of  our  woe — protected 
by  the  one  who  best  can  cure  the  ills  of  the  soul,  because 
'tis  he  wlio  knows  them  best.  .  .  .  Oh,  what  unexpected 
joy !     Who   would   have   told   me   a   moment   ago   that 
happiness  was  so  near?     Once  more  I  begin  to  breathe. 
Ah,  Edmund,  this  is  life  indeed ! 
Shakespeare 
There  is  no  time  to  lose.     Speak.     I  must  know 
everything. 

Pause. 
Edmund 
Two  years  ago,  Alice  joined  your  company.     "Twas 
then  I  met  her.    Would  I  never  had ! 

Alice 
Would  I  had  ne'er  met  him! 

Edmund 
I  saw  her  from  a  distance ;  a  mysterious  force  drew 
me   toward  her.     I  reached  her  side.     My  vision  was 
enrapt — 'twas  no  mere  look  I  gave  her.     I  spoke,  but 
no  on(;  heard  my  words.     T  trembled :  T  loved  her ! 

Alice 
And  I  loved  him  1 


act  i  —  scene  vi  49 

Edmund 
Love,  even  rightful,  inclines  to  live  hidden  in  the 
depths  of  the  heart.    Days  passed  .  .  I  resolved  at  last 
to  declare  myself.  .  .  .  Impossible ! 

Alice 
Yorick  had  already  told  me  of  his  affection. 

Edmund 
My  rival  was  the  man  to  whom  I  owed  everything. 

Alice 
I\Iy   mother   fell   dangerously   sick;   we   lacked   re- 
sources.   To  our  eyes,  Yorick  seemed  as  one  sent  by  the 
Infinite  Pity. 

Edmund 
Could    I    prevent   my   benefactor's   doing   good   to 
others  ? 

Alice 
And  one    day,   "Alice,"   saith   my  mother,   "thou 
wilt  be  left  abandoned;  marry  Yorick — he  loves  thee  so, 
and  is  so  worthy." 

Edmund 
Yorick  had  picked  me  up,  naked  and  starving,  from 
the  gutter,  to  give  me  shelter  and  love  and  happiness 
and  a  place  in  the  world. 

Alice 
'Twas  Yorick  cheered  the  last  days  of  my  mother's 
lif<.>  T^dth  all  manner  of  comforts. 


50  tamato  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Edmund 
For  me  to  destroy  his  happiness  would  have  been 
the  depth  of  meanness. 

Alice 
My  mother  on  her  death-bed  begged  me  .... 

Edmund 
I  did  but  pay  the  tribute  that  gratitude  demands. 

Alice 
And  I  but  gave  the  answer  that  one  gives  a  dying 
mother. 

Edmund 
I  swore  to  forget  her. 

Alice 
And  I,  in  striving  to  love  him  less,  but  loved  him 
more. 

Edmund 
Vain  resistance ! 

Alice 
Yet,  thought  I.  Edmund  is  his  son. 

Edmund 
Yorick  is  my  father,  so  I  told  myself. 

x\lice 
And  when  1  }uarry  Yorick,  'twill  end  the  love  that 
Edmimd  has  inspired. 


act  i  —  scene  vi  51 

Edmund 
The  instant  Yorick's  bound  to  her  in  wedlock,  my 
love  for  her  is  ended. 

Alice 
To  love  my  husband's  son?     How  horrible! — Nay, 
impossible ! 

Edmund 
So  I — to  love  my  father's  wife?     What  madness! 
It  cannot  be. 

Alice 
And  how  I  longed  and  waited  for  my  marriage- 
hour! 

Edmund 
For  me,  each  minute  seemed  a  century,  till  then, 

Alice 
At  last  the  hour  was  here! 

Edmund 
At  last  she  married  him ! 

Alice 
And  love,  its  one  hope  lost,  instead  of  fleeing  front 
our  breast.  .  .  . 

Edmund 
Arose  therein,  with  outcries  like  a  wild  beast  at  bay. 

Alice 
Silent  we,  still  silent. 


52  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Edmund 
In  spite  of  Yorick's  praj-ers  and  tears,  I  would  no 
longer  live  with  him. 

Alice 
Yet  here  he  often  had  to  come. 

Edmund 
So  Yorick  bade. 

Alice 
We  saw  each  other  daily — silent. 

Edmund 
Hour  after  hour  we  passed  alone  together — silent. 

Alice 
At     last     one     day     while     playing     Romeo     and 
Juliet.  .  .  . 

Edmund 
Animated  by  the  flame  of  the  beautiful  fiction.  .  .  . 

Alice 
Mingling  with  the  flame  of  the  fiction  the  burning 
flame  of  reality.  . 

Edmund 
With  all  eyes  fixed  on  us.  .  .  . 

Alice 
And  all  ears  hanging  on  our  words.  .  .  . 

Edmund 
Then   my  lips — nay,  my  heart — asked  her  gently, 
very  gently :    ' '  Dost  thou  love  me  ? " 


act  i  —  scene  vi  53 

Alice 
And  my  lips — nay,  ray  heart — softly,  very  softly, 
answered  :    ' '  Yes. ' ' 

Edmund 
Such  is  our  guilt. 

Alice 
Our    punishment,    at    every    hour    to    dread    and 
tremble. 

Edmund 
A  cankering  remorse. 

Alice 
Without  a  single  solace. 

Edmund 
One  remedy  alone. 

Alice 
To  die. 

Edmund 
There's  nothing  more  to  tell  you. 

Alice 
We  swear  it. 

Edmund 
By  the  soul  of  Yorick ! 

Alice 
By  his  soul! 

Edmund  ' 

This  is  what  has  come  to  pass. 


54  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Alice 
Just  this. 

Shakespeare 
Poor  human  nature !  In  thee  the  noble  enterprise 
begun  with  strength  unequal  to  the  task,  becomes  a  well 
of  evil.  Poor  human  nature.  Thou  dost  recoil  before 
the  smaller  bar,  and  dost  leap  o'er  the  greater.  You 
love  each  other ;  'tis  imperative  you  shall  not  love. 

Edmund 
Who  says  so  knows  not  that  the  soul  enslaved  by 
love  cannot  free  itself  from  its  tyrant. 

Shakespeare 
Who  says  so  knows  the  soul  is  free,  as  being  the 
child  of  God. 

Alice 
Explain  it  to  me,  in  the  name  of  pity !    What  must 
be  done  when  one  who  loves  would  cease  to  love  ? 
Shakespeare 
WUl 

Edmund 
To  will  is  not  enough. 

Shakespeare 
'Tis  enough,  if  the  willing  be  not  feigned. 

Alice 
Who  assures  that? 


act  1 — scene  vi  55 

Shakespeare 
A  witness  not  to  be  denied. 
Edmund 
What  witness? 

Shakespeare 
Your  conscience.    If  it  were  not  responsible  for  the 
guilt,  why   these  starts,  these  tears,  and  this  remorse. 
You  will  flee  from  Alice  forever. 
Edmund 
That   thought  has   come   to   me   a   thousand  times 
already.    Don't  demand  the  impossible. 
Shakespeare 
On  tlie  downward  slope  of  sin  one  must  advance, 
or  make  retreat ;  you  will  retreat  despite  yourself. 
Edmund 
You'll  force  me  to  go  away? 

Shakespeare 
If  'tis  the  only  means,  by  force  must  right  prevail. 

Alice 
Edmund  will  obey  you.     At  last  with  some  one  to 
protect  us,   you   shall  see  how  faith   and   courage  are 
reborn  in  our  liearts. 

Edmund 
Ah,    yes :    with    you    to    aid,    no    deed    can    seem 
impossible.    We  are  soldiers  of  duty. 


56  tamayo  y  baus — a  new  drama 

Alice 
You,  our  captain. 

Edmund 
Lead  us  to  victory ! 

Shakespeare 
Could  I  but  bring  to  pass  this  one  good  deed,  I'd 
laugh  at  my  Othello  and  Macbeth  and  all  that  foolery. 
(With  inner  joy.)  I  trust  in  the  promise  of  a  man. 
(Taking  Edmund's  hand.)  And  in  the  promise  of  a 
woman.     (Taking  her's.) 

Edmund  and  Alice 
Yes! 

Shakespeare 
Now  then,  until  the  day  shall  come  when  Edmund 
leaves  us,  you  must  not  be  alone ;  never  in  the  presence 
of  others  look  at  each  other,  not  even  by  a  glance.  Duty 
asks  this,  necessity  demands  it.  I  thought  myself  the 
sole  possessor  of  the  secret  .  .  .  fool  that  I  was !  Love 
never  could  stay  hidden. 

Alice 
What  say  you? 

Edmund 
Explain  yourself ! 

Shakespeare 
This  awful  secret's   known  as  well  by  one   quite 
capable  of  villainy. 


ACT  I — scenp:  VI  57 

Edmund 
What's  he? 

Shakespeaee 
By  getting  his  assignment  in  the  new  drama,  Yorick 
has  maddened  Walton. 

Edmund 
With  terror. 
Walton ! 

Shakespeare 
I  have  it  from  the  author  of  the  piece,  who  came 
just  now  from  Walton's  house  to  mine,  and  told  me  of 
their  recent  discourse.  He  saw  not  Walton's  thoughts, 
but  he  did  echo  certain  words  of  his,  as  these :  ' '  The 
role  of  outraged  husband  divinely  fits  this  Yorick,  and 
no  one  should  dispute  his  having  it." 

Alice 
God  of  my  soul! 

Shakespeare 
"If  now  neglect  or  blindness  should  make  him  miss 
the  fine  points  of  the  role,  'tis  I  shall  open  his  eyes." 

Alice 
Ah,  'tis  certain !    That  man 's  a  wicked  wretch ;  he  '11 
ruin  us ! 

Edmund 
With  profound  anxiety. 
Yes,  Alice,  we  are  ruined,  ruined  utterly. 


58  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Shakespeare 
Not  yet.    I  go  at  ouce  iii  search  of  him,  and  finding 
him — there  is  no  longer  anything  to  fear. 
Going  toward  the  rear. 
Edmund 
Going  to  her,  seizing  her  hand. 
Alice !  Alice. 

Alice 
What  is  it  ?    Why  so  moved  ? 
Shakespeare 
From  the  rear. 
Courage,  Edmund.     I  shall  return  at  once  to  calm 
you  both. 

Edmund 
Leave  us  not,  for  God 's  sake ! 
Shakespeare 
Taking  a  few  steps  toward  front. 
Not  leave  you?    What's  the  reason? 

Edmund 
Walton's  no  longer  there — not  at  his  house. 
Shakespeare 
Coming  to  Edmund's  side. 
How  know  you  this? 

Edmund 
'Tis  I  who  say  to  you,  Courage !    (To  ShaJcespaere.) 
Courage,  poor  girl !     (To  Alice.) 


ACT  I  —  SCENE  VI  59 


Alice 
Nay,  end  this  horrible  suspense. 

Shakespeare 
Where  is  he? 

Edmund 
Here. 

Heavens ! 

With  him? 

With  him! 


Shakespeare 

Alice 

Edmund 


Shakespeare 
You  have  seen  him,  then? 

Edmund 
Even  in  my  presence  he  began  to  explain  the  object 
of  his  coming. 

Alice 
Ah  !  what  shall  I  do  now — my  God,  what  shall  I  do  ? 

Edmund 
Earth  hates  me,  else  would  she  open  at  my  feet ! 

Shakespeare 
111  fortune! 

Alice 
Do  not  abandon  me ;  defend  me,  shield  me.  .  .  . 


60  tamayo  y  baus — a  new  dram  v 

Edmund 
In  pity 's  name,  a  way,  a  hope ! 

Shakespeare 

If  we  lose  our  heads.  .  .  .  Calm.  .  .  .  quiet.  .  .  . 

Pondering.    Yorick  appears  in  the  door  at  right,  followed 

hy  Walton;  he  gives  Walton  the  manuscript  that  he 

holds  in  his  hand,  and  with  joyous  coimtenance, 

makes  signs  for  him  to  keep  silence,  putting 

his    finger    on    his    lips.      He    then 

approaches  his  wife  rapidly  on  tip-toe. 

Edmund 
With  great  anxiety,  to  Shakespeare. 
What  make  you  of  it  ? 

Alice 
Speak. 

Yorick 

Seizing  his  wife  with  one  arm,  tvith  a  tragically  affected 

attitude,  and  declaiming  with  exaggerated  emphasis. 

"Tremble,  thou  faithless  spouse!  thou  ingrate.  ..." 

Alice 

Christ!     (Shuddering  with  fright.)     Pardon! 

Falling  to  the  floor  in  a  faint. 

Yorick 

Eh?  ...  . 


act  i  —  scene  vi  61 

Edmund 
Trying  to  hurl  himself  at  Walton. 
Damned  villain! 

Shakespeare 
In  a  low  tone  to  Edmund,  holding  him  back. 
Fool! 

YORICK 

Confused  and  stunned. 
"Pardon!" 

Walton 
Aside,  ironically. 
Such  a  coincidence ! 

YORICK 

''Pardon!"  .... 
Trying  to  explain  to  himself  ivhat  has  happened. 
Shakespeare  goes  to   help  Alice. 

Curtain 


ACT  TWO 

The  same  setting. 

SCENE  ONE 

Walton 
I  shall  await  his  return.  (At  the  rear,  speaking  to 
someone  without.  He  lays  his  hat  on  a  chair  and  ad- 
vances to  the  front.)  Three  hours  or  better  he  spends 
with  me  in  the  rehearsal,  and  shortly  after  seeks  me  at 
my  house.  What  can  he  wish  ?  And  am  I  wise  in  seeking 
him  ?  The  thing  one  loves  allures — so  with  the  thing  one 
hates.  This  night  the  new  play  will  be  first  performed. 
This  night  will  Yorick  play  my  rightful  role,  the  role  he 
villainously  robbed  me  of.  Will  he  play  it  well  ?  To  let 
him  make  the  attempt;  to  lead  him  on  to  essay  a  task 
so  big  that  failure's  certain;  myself  beside  him  in  a 
lesser  role;  this  were  a  pretty  scheme,  methought,  at  a 
single  stroke  to  mete  out  proper  punishment  for  him, 
and  win  myself  an  exquisite  revenge.  But  now  I  fear 
I've  been  in  error.  'Tis  odd  that  every  one  except  myself 
should  think  he  will  perform  it  badly.  The  rabble 
applaud  by  habit.  .  .  .  Yorick  is  their  idol.  .  .  .  Even 
his  sudden  changing  of  the  sock  for  the  buskin,  will  serve 


64  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS — A  NEW  DRAMA 

for  praise  of  him.  Nor  will  my  enemies  disdain  this 
palpable  occasion  to  affront  me.  And  how  fervent  is  the 
praise  for  him  who  earns  it  not !  How  sweet  it  is  to  extol 
one  with  the  sole  aim  of  humiliating  another !  Aye,  sure, 
'tis  fine  to  have  this  Yorick  come  with  his  white  hands 
and  snatch  from  my  brow  the  laurel,  watered  with  sweat 
and  tears  in  so  many  years  of  struggle, — my  only  hope 
of  consolation  since  the  day  when  my  breast  received 
the  wound  that  never  heals.  0  thou  Goddess  of  Glory, 
as  adorable  as  thou  art  detestable !  Leaden  feet  thou 
hast  for  approaching  him  who  calls  thee ;  wings,  for 
flight.  One  suffers  if  he  await  thee ;  still  more,  if  at  last 
he  enjoy  thee ;  if  then  again  he  lose  thee,  a  thousand 
times  more  poignant  his  suffering.  What  wonder  that 
the  longing  to  hold  thee  fast  should  stifle  the  voice  of 
honor  and  of  virtue?  That  instant  when  I  learned  that 
Yorick  sought  to  injure  me,  I  should  have  stricken  him 
with  the  story  of  his  shame.  The  surest,  speediest 
revenge  is  best.  Let  my  rival  win  a  triumph  on  the 
boards,  destroying  my  glory,  and  'tis  too  late  for  ven- 
geance. I  gave  my  word  to  keep  the  secret ;  my  word — 
how  can  I  but  fulfill  it?  So  strange  a  spell  tliis 
Shakespeare  casts  o  'er  me !  So  masterful  a  fear !  .  .  . 
And,  certes,  Yorick 's  jealous,  lie  tries  to  hide  it  in  the 
pocket  of  his  heart;  but  jealousy  shows  ever  in  one's  face. 
Mere  chance  performed  a  part  of  what  was  mine  to  do. 


ACT   II — SCENE   11  65 

What  tho  Shakespeare  spent  his  utmost  wit  on  the 
attempt  to  hide  it.  .  .  .  Let  but  suspicion  once  transfix 
the  soul,  there's  naught  to  do  but  to  pursue  the  truth 
till  one  has  put  his  hand  upon  it.  And  who  knows  but 
the  jealousy  that  burns  within,  may  be  the  flame  of 
inspiration  for  the  actor's  counterfeit?  'Twould  be  the 
last  straw :  that  even  the  misfortunes  of  my  enemy  should 
turn  against  me. — Ah  !  Is  it  you  ?  (Changing  his  tone  on 
seeing  Y crick  enter  thru  door  at  rear.)  Thank  God !  I 
was  beginning  to  tire  of  awaiting  you. 

SCENE  TWO 

Walton  and  Yorick 

YOBICK 

You,  here? 

Walton 

Hearing  you  sought  me  after  the  rehearsal,  I  come 
to  see  in  what  way  I  can  serve  you.  (Yorick  looks  at  him 
in  silence.)    Say,  then,  something  you  would  ask  ? 

YORICK 

I  wished  only.  .  .  .  (Becoming  confused.)  I  will 
tell  you. 

Walton 
(Aside.)  What  can  it  be? 


-66  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

YORICK 

(Seating  himself.) 
I've  done  a  deal  of  walkiug.  .  .  I  am  tired — tired 
out. 

W.VLTON 

Well,  rest,  then. 

YORICK 

I  thought  to  find  relief  with  the  fresh  air  of  the 
fields,  but  my  hope  was  vain. 

Walton 
With  a  joy  that  he  cannot  repress. 
What?    Are  you  ill? 

YoRICK 

I  feel  a  kind  of  restlessness  ....  discomfort.  .  .  . 

Walton 
Let's  see,   let's  see.  .  .  .  (Feeling   his   ha7ids  and 
brow.)    You  are  on  fire.    Nay,  I  believe  you  have  a  fever. 

YoRICK 

'Tis  possible. 

Walton 
Why  not  dispatch  a  messenger  to  William  ? 

YORICK 

To  William?     (With  anger,  and  rising  suddenly.) 
Wherefore  ? 


ACT  II — SCENE  n  67 

Walton 
Perhaps  you  can't  go  on,  tonight.     Perchance  the 
play  must  be  postponed.  .  .  . 

With  affected  solicitude. 

YORICK  , 

My  trouble's  not  so  serious. 

Walton 
Let  us  cease  this  childishness;  I'll  go  in  search  of 
William,  and  .  .  . 

Taking  a  few  steps  toward  hack. 

YOBICK 

I  tell  you,  I  've  no  wish  to  see  him.  I  tell  you  I  must 
play. 

Walton 
With  irony,  returning  to  his  side. 
Since    you    have    hopes    this    night    to    attain    a 
triumph.  .  .  .! 

YORICK 

A  triumph.  .  ,  Yes,  a  triumph.  .  .  .  (As  if  think- 
ing of  something  else.)  Walton.  .  .  .  (Without  daring 
to  continue.) 

Walton 

What  ?    (Rudely.) 

YORICK 

Walton.  .  .  . 


68  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Walton 
Such  am  I  called. 

YORICK 

Make  not  sport  of  me,    (Disconcerted.) 

Walton 
My  faith,  your  wits  seem  wandering. 

YORICK 

Know,  then,  I  have  one  weakness  that's  incorrigible. 

Walton 
One  only?     You  are  fortunate. 

YORICK 

An  overmastering  curiosity. 
Walton 
Adam  and  Eve  were  the  parents  of  the  human  race. 

YoRICK 

You  shall  see.  This  morning  you  were  holding  con- 
verse, you  and  William,  in  a  very  dark  corner  of  the 
stage.  And  chancing  to  draw  near  you  I  heard  you 
saying.  .  .  . 

Walton 

What? 

YORICK 

(Aside.)  He  becomes  confused.  (Aloud.)  I  heard 
you  saying:  "I  have  not  broken  my  promise:  Yorick 
knows  nothing  through  me." 


ACT  U — SCENE  11 


69 


Walton 
So  then  you  heard.  .  .  .  ? 

YORICK 

What  I  have  just  repeated,  nothing  more. 

Walton 
Well? 

YORICK 

Well,  my  so  great  curiosity  is  urging  me  to  find  what 
this  thing  is  that  William  bade  you  hide  from  me. 
Walton 
Nay,  you  are  inquisitive  indeed. 

YORICK 

I  warned  you  of  it  at  the  first. 

Walton 
You  have,  besides,  another  weakness. 

YORICK 

What  is 't? 

Walton 
That  of  dreaming  when  awake. 

YORICK 

What  leads  you  to  suspect  it  ? 

Walton 
You  think  to  have  heard  me  utter  words  that  never 
left  my  lips. 

YORICK 

No? 


70  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Walton 
No. 

YORICK 

It  seems  like  vdtehcraft. 

Walton 
Going  to  take  his  hat. 
And  if  you  have  no  further  commands.  .  .  . 

YORICK 

(Aside.)  I  do  not  clear  my  doubt.  (Aloud.)  Walton ! 
Walton 
Taking  a  few  steps  toward  Yorick  with  hat  in  hand. 
You  call  me  ? 

YORICK 

Yes ;  to  offer  my  congratulations. 

Walton 
Wherefore  ? 

YORICK 

Because  you  lie  so  ill. 

Walton 
Nor  well  nor  ill.    I  lie  not. 

Yorick 
Nay,  you  lie !     (With  sudden  anger.) 

Walton 
Yorick ! 

Yorick 
You  lie! 


act  ii — scene  u  71 

Walton 
Faith,  have  you  lost  your  reason  ? 

YORICK 

I  keep  it,  certes,  since  I  say  you  lie. 

Walton 
I  shall  give  proof  of  meekness  by  turning  my  back 
on  you. 

YORICK 

In  a  threatening  tone. 
You  shall  not  leave  before  you  tell  me  what  'tis  you 
have  offered  to  keep  silent. 

Walton 
Without  heing  aile  to  contain  himself. 
If  I  have  offered  to  keep  it  silent,  pray  how  expect 
you  I  should  tell  it  you? 

YoRICK 

Ah  !    So  I  did  not  dream  ?    So  verily  beyond  denial 
I  heard  the  words  you  have  but  now  denied? 
Walton 
Leave  me  in  peace.    Good-bye. 

YORICK 

Walton,  speak,  in  pity's  name. 

Walton 
Yorick,  in  pity's  name,  I  shall  keep  silence. 

YORICK 

Then  'tis  a  mischief  that's  being  hidden  from  me? 


72  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Walton 
An  if  you  could  dmne  how  rash  is  your  insistence, 
how  heroic  my  refusal ! 

YORICK 

By  my  life,  I  swear  that  you  shall  speak. 

Walton 
On  my  word,  you  do  deserve  that  I  should  speak. 

YORICK 

Out  with  it. 

Walton 
Ah!      (Determined   to   tell   what   is   asked.)     No. 
(Changing  his  mind.) 

YORICK 

No? 

Walton 
No.  (Coldly.) 

YOBICK 

I  give  you  this  half  hour  to  decide. 

Walton 
You  threaten  me? 

YORICK 

So  'twould  seem. 

Walton 
Hear  me !  , 


ACT  II — SCENE  II  73 

YORICK 

Withiii  but  half  an  hour  I'll  seek  you  out  to  learn 
your  final  answer. 

Walton 
And  if  you  find  me  not? 

YoRICK 

I'll  say  you  are  afraid, 

Walton 
Of  whom?    Of  you? 

YORICK 

Of  me. 

Walton 
I  shaU  be  here  within  the  half  hour. 

YORICK 

You  will  come  ? 

Walton 
Be  assured  I  will. 

YORICK 

To  reveal  to  me  at  last  what  you  do  now  refuse  ? 

Walton 

Nay,  but  to  see  what  you  will  do  when  once  more  I 
refuse  to  sate  your  curiosity. 

YORICK 

'Tis  bad  to  play  with  fire ;  a  thousand  times  more 
perilous  to  play  with  the  despair  of  a  man. 


74  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  xew  drama 

Walton 
You  are  in  despair  ?  / 

YORICK 

Leave  me. 

Walton 
At  once.    Still  friends  are  we  ? 

YORICK 

No Yes.  .  .  . 

Walton 
Yes  or  no  ?  / 

YORICK 

No. 

Walton 
Then  I  need  not  offer  you  my  hand. 

YORICK 

We  shall  be  friends  forever  if  you  will  change  your 
purpose. 

Walton 
I  '11  see  you  in  a  half  hour,  Yorick. 

YORICK 

Within  a  half  hour,  Walton. 

Walton 
Saluting  Edmund,  who  comes  through  door  at  rear. 
Heaven  save  you,  Edmund. 

Edmund 
And  you.    (Dryly.) 


act  ii — scene  111  75 

Walton 
Aside,  as  he  goes  to  rear. 
If  he  insists  on  knowing  this,  'twill  make  refusal  but 
the  easier. 

SCENE  THREE 

Edmund  and  Yorick 

Yorick  strides  back  and  forth  in  uncontrollable 

restlessness. 

Yorick 

Greetings,    Master    Edmund.      What    miracle    has 

brought  you  here  at  last  ? 

Edmund 
Well,  as  this  morning  you  were  chiding  me  for  my 
not  coming.  .  .  . 

Yorick 
And  now  you  come  because  I  chid  you,  eh?     On 
that  score  only? 

Edmund 
No.  ...  I  would  say.  .  .     (Embarrassed.) 

Yorick 
Seek  no  excuse. 

Edmund 
You  are  preoccupied,  methinks.  .  .  .  restless.  .  .  . 

doubtless  the  first  performance  of  the  drama 

Seeking  something  to  say. 


76  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

YORICK 

The     first     performance     of     the     drama.  .  .  cer- 
tainly. .  .  .  that's  it.  .  .  . 

Talking  mechanically,  abstracted  in  his  meditation.    He 

continues  walking  ahout  with  step  now  slow,  now 

very    hurried;    stopes    at    times;    again    seats 

himself    in    the    chair    nearest    at    hand, 

showing  in  all  his  actions  the  agitation 

which  dominates  him. 

Edmund 
On  your  part,  none  the  less,  there  is  no  cause  for 
fear.    The  public  loves  you  blindly.  .  .  Tonight  as  usual 
'twill  reward  your  merit,  and.  .  . 

Noting  that  Yorick  is  not  listening,  he  ceases  speaking, 

sits  down,  and  with  terror  watches  Yorick,  who 

continues  his  agitated  movements.    Pause. 

Yorick 
What  were  you  saying  ?    Speak.  ...  I  am  listening. 
(Without  stopping.) 

Edmund 
(Aside.)     He  will  learn  all  at  last.     There  is  no 
remedy. 

Yorick 
Do  you  not  speak? 


ACT  II — SCENE  m  77 

Edmund 
Ay,  sir.  .  .  I  was  saying  that  the  drama  this  eve- 
ning. .  .  . 

YORICK 

You  have  not  asked  me  of  Alice.  Why  have  you  not 
asked  of  her? 

Stopping  suddenly  before  Edmund. 
Edmund 
Since  I  this  morning  saw  her  in  the  rehearsal.  .  . 

YORICK 

Yes.  .  .  that's  true.  .  . 

Again  walking  across  the  stage. 
Edmund 
(Aside.)  His  doubts  were  every  moment  growing — 
they  have  reached  their  climax. 

YORICK 

Well,  the  performance  this  evening ? 

Edmund 

I  am  assured  'twill  please.  It  has  appeal  and 
action ;  'tis  the  work  of  an  unknown  author,  aud  envy 
will  not  war  on  him. 

YORICK 

It  cannot  be ! 

Speaking  to  himself  and  stamping  on  the  floor. 

Edmund 
Oh !     (Rising.) 


78  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

YORICK 

What,  did  I  speak?  These  days  I  have  a  way  of 
speaking  when  I  know  scarcely  what  I  speak.  I  am  not 
well,  these  days. 

Touching  his  forehead. 

Edmund 
You  are  ill  ?    What  ails  you  ? 

With  tenderness,  approaching  him. 

YORICK 

A  role  so  long  and  difficult.  .  .  .  the  rehearsals.  .  .  . 
the  excessive  study.  .  .  .  but  there  is  naught  to  fear, 
'twill  all  pass  over.  ...  it  has  passed.  Let's  have  a  talk 
awhile  here,  us  two.  (Seating  himself  on  the  taMe.)  We 
were  talking  of.  .  .  of  what.  .  .  .  Ah,  yes,  of  the  new 
drama.  If  one  may  judge  by  the  rehearsals,  your  role 
pleases  you  little  ?  And  Alice  ?  How  do  you  find  her  in 
the  role  of  disloyal  spouse  ? 

Edmund 
Excellent,  altogether  excellent. 

YORICK 

Excellent,  eh  ? 
Impetuously,  jumping  from  the  table  to  floor. 

Edmund 
Ay,  sir I  believe.  .  .  . 


ACT  II — SCENE  m  79 

YORICK 

You  see  how  well  it  pleases  me  that  you.  .  .  .  (Con- 
taining himself,  and  dissiimulating.)  Edmund,  come 
here.  (Taking  a  sudden  resolution  and  going  close  to 
him.)  Tell  me:  have  you  e'er  felt  a  furious  tempest 
break  forth  in  your  heart?  Could  you  for  long  prevent 
its  flashes  being  seen,  its  thunder  heard?  Is  it  possible 
to  suffer  and  keep  silence?  Is't  not  true  that  suffering 
at  last  wrings  from  the  most  long-suffering  and  valorous 
their  pitiful  moans  ?  Does  misery  do  well  in  letting  some 
insufferable  burden  crush  it,  without  a  cry  to  friendship 
for  its  aid?  And  are  you  not  my  son,  my  beloved  son? 
Edmund 

Ah,  yes,  your  son !    (Embracing  him.) 

YORICK 

Love  your  father  well.  .  Ah !  I  have  much  need  for 
one  to  love  me !  Because  it  is  for  you  to  learn,  Edmund, 
that  Alice.  .  Oh,  how  my  lips  rebel  at  uttering  these 
words!  If  only  I  could  say  them,  yet  keep  them  from 
my  own  ears !  Alice  loves  me  not ! 
Edmund 

Heavens ! 

YORICK 

You  see  the  awfulness  of  this  misfortune !  It  seems 
impossible  that  there  should  be  a  greater.  It  seems 
impossible,  does  it  not  V  Well,  listen :  Alice  loves  another ! 


80  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

There  have  you  a  misfortune  still  more  awful — more 
awful !    (Much  moved.) 

Edmund 
But  you  are  sure  in  error.    How  know  you  that  your 
wife.  .  .  ?    Who  has  induced  you  to  believe  it  ? 
With  wrath  in  this  last  phrase. 

YORICK 

On  hearing  me  call  her  "faithless  spouse",  with  the 
words  of  that  cursed  drama  which  sounded  in  her  ears 
like  truth,  she  was  so  overwhelmed  that  she  fell  fainting 
to  the  floor. 

Edmund 

Nay,  then,  why  be  surprised — so  delicate  and  sensi- 
tive is  she  that  at  the  slightest  unexpected  noise  she's 
shaken  and  distracted  ?    This  William  told  you. 

YORICK 

Ay,  verily,  he  did.  (Ironically.)  And  Alice,  as  she 
fainted,  begged  for  pardon. 

Edmund 

Disturbed  by  your  acusing  voice,  her  mind  like  a 
blind  machine  followed  the  given  impulse.  That  William 
told  you  too. 

YORICK 

'Tis  true  he  also  told  me  that.  (  With  irony  as  be- 
fore.) But  in  my  breast  there  was  left  a  little  thorn — 
a  little  thorn  which  very  soon  became  a  burning  iron. 


ACT  II — SCENE  m  81 

Till  then  I  was  not  wont  to  see  aught,  notice  aught.  The 
light  of  happiness  dazzles  even  as  the  light  of  the  sun. 
But  when  my  sky  of  happiness  o'erelouded,  all  things 
stood  clear  and  open  to  my  eyes.  I  recalled  a  "yes"  as 
ardent  as  love ;  and  another  ' '  yes ' '  lukewarm  like  grati- 
tude: 'tis  only  out  of  love  that  love  makes  bonds  that 
will  not  break.  I  recalled  tears  shed  out  of  season, 
frights  and  forebodings  without  apparent  cause.  She 
seemed  to  me  more  young  than  ever — more  bewitching; 
and  with  bewilderment  I  saw  myself  as  one  grown  old 
and  ugly.  Now  every  moment  brings  new  food  for  my 
suspicious,  for  Alice  makes  no  longer  even  the  attempt 
to  feign  or  to  deceive ;  tlie  weight  of  guilt  crushes  her  will. 
I  look  at  her,  and  she  is  shaken  and  distraught,  as  if  my 
glances  had  some  wizard  power  to  pierce  her  heart  like 
wounding  darts.  She  never  speaks  to  me  but  that  her 
trembling  lips  reveal  the  trembling  of  her  conscience. 
Does  a  rebellious  tear  show  sometimes  in  her  eye?  Oh, 
how  she  struggles  to  force  it  back  again  within  herself ! 
And  what  torture  it  is  to  see  the  tears  swell  ever  larger 
beneath  the  restraining  lids.  Or  does  she  strive  to  laugh, 
perchance?  Her  laughter's  sadder  than  her  tears.  Oh, 
yes!  my  Edmund,  I  would  swear  it  before  God;  Alice 
hides  a  hideous  secret  in  her  breast.  At  last  have  I  be- 
come convinced  of  it — with  terror ! — with  greater  terror 
than  if  I  saw  before  me  suddenly  the  pure  azure  of  the 


82  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

heavens  to  open,  and  disclose  the  horrors  and  the  shades 
of  hell.  Who  is  the  thief  of  my  happiness?  the  thief  of 
her  innocence  ?  Answer.  Don 't  tell  me  you  do  not  know : 
it  were  useless.  I  should  not  believe  you.  Who  is  it? 
You  do  not  speak?  You  ^dll  not  speak?  Dear  God, 
what  world  is  this  in  which  crime  always  finds  so  many 
accomplices  ? 

Edmund 
To  see  you  suffer  bitterness  so  cruel  leaves  me  with- 
out strength  even  to  open  ray  lips.     I  repeat  that  you 
suspect  without  a  cause,  that  I  know  nothing.  ,  .  . 

YORICK 

Why  have  you  ever  been  disdainful  toward  Alice? 
Why  have  you  ceased  to  frequent  this  house?  Because 
you  knew  that  that  woman  was  deceiving  your  father: 
because  you  would  not  by  your  presence  stand  sponsor 
for  my  shame. 

Edmund 
Oh,  believe  it  not — so  fatal  an  illusion ! 

YORICK 

Yet  have  I  said  that  I  begin  to  see  aright;  that  I 
begin  to  understand  it  all.  Do  you  not  know  who  is  my 
rival?  Help  me  to  find  him.  Can  it  be  Walton,  per- 
chance ? 


ACT  II — SCENE  ni  83 

Edmund 
How  dare  you  to  imagine,  even.  .  .  .?  (With  indig- 
nation.) 

YORICK 

Take  no  pains  to  dissuade  me.    Nay,  certes,  'tis  not 
Walton.    Pass  him  by. — Perchance  it  is  Lord  Stanley  ? 
Edmund 

Lord  Stanley?  Because  the  other  night  he  spoke 
with  her  a  moment?  .  .  . 

YORICK 

Silence,  go  no  further.  'Tis  not  he,  neither.  Myself, 
I  realized  that.  Can  it  be  the  Earl  of  Southampton,  the 
friend  of — of  Shakespeare? 

With  difficulty  pronouncing  this  last  name. 
Edmund 
See,  now,  you  are  beside  yourself. 

YORICK 

Who  is  it,  then  ?  Ay,  beyond  question,  it  must  be  he, 
the  one  I  least  should  wish  it.  The  treason  of  the  wife 
is  not  sufficient;  still  must  I  mourn  the  treason  of  the 
friend. 

Edmund 

Suspect  no  one.    No  rival  exists.    Alice  is  not  guilty. 

YORICK 

In  any  case  I  shall  clear  up  my  doubt  at  once.  .  . 
Whether  she  be  guilty  or  not,  at  once  I  am  to  learn  it. 
Going  toward  door  at  left. 


84  tamayo  y  baus — a  new  drama 

Edmund 
What  would  you  do  ? 

YORICK 

Nothing.  (Returning  to  Edmund's  side.)  The  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world :  ask  her. 

Edmund 
Not  that!     (Horrified.) 

YORICK 

And  why  ?    Can  I  do  more  than  trust  her  word  ? 

Edmund 
But  how  if  you  accuse  her  without  motive  ?    If  she 
is  innocent  ? 

YORICK 

If  she  is  innocent  why  trembles  she,  why  tremble  I, 
why  tremble  you  ? 

Edmund 
Time  will  clear  up  your  doubts. 

YoRICK 

That  time  which  human  fancy  measures,  now  and 
again  stands  still,  and  puts  souls  into  terror  and  con- 
fusion with  a  foreglimpsed  eternity.  For  days  past  time 
has  not  budged  for  me.    I  would  come  back  to  life. 

Edmund 
Wait  another  day,  only  another  day. 
Seizing  his  hand. 


ACT  II — SCENE  UI  85 

YORICK 

Not  a  day,  not  an  hour,  not  an  instant  more.    Loose 
your  hold. 

Struggling  to  release  his  hand  from  Edmund's. 

Edmund 
Ask  it  not. 

YORICK 

Insufferable  obstinacy !    Why,  the  boy 's  perverse ! 
Struggling  to  release  himself. 
Edmund 
Hear  me. 

YORICK 

A  simpleton  to  boot.    Unhand  me ! 
Makes  a  violent  effort,  and  succeeds  in  getting  away. 
Edmund 
Oh! 

YORICK 

But  there 's  no  remedy.  .  .  I  must  learn  it  all.  .  .  . ! 
(With  fury.) 

Edmund 
Be  merciful! 

YORICK 

But  if  I  have  no  wish  to  be  merciful  1 
Changing  his  tone,  and  with  tearful  voice.    He  goes  out 
hy  left  door. 


86  TAMAYO  T  BAUS — A  NEW  DRAMA 

SCENE  FOUR 

Edmund  and  Alice 

Edmund 
The  wrath  of  heaven! — Ah!  (Seeing  Alice,  who 
appears  thru  hangings  that  cover  door  at  right,  and 
stands  motionless,  in  dejection  and  despair.  Brief  pause, 
after  which  Edmund  runs  to  her,  and  brings  her  to 
front.)    Did  you  hear  ? 

Alice 
Yes. 

Edmund 
At  dawn  tomorrow  there's  a  bark  sets  sail  for  some 
far  clime.    The  captain  is  my  friend.    Let  us  flee. 
In  a  low  voice  and  very  rapidly. 
Alice 
No. 

Edmund 
'Twixt  now  and  night-fall  will  the  means  of  flight 
be  planned. 

Alice 
No. 

Edmund 
If  there  be  no  way  else  to  inform  you  of  them,  you'll 
have  a  letter  in  the  theatre,  and  in  it  you  will  learn  what 
I  have  fixed  upon — what  each  of  us  must  do. 


ACT  n — SCENE  IV  87 

Alice 

No. 

Edmund 
Your  husband  will  discover  everything. 

Alice 
Heaven's  will  be  done, 

Edmund 
And  what  is  to  become  of  you? 

Alice 
What  matter ! 

Edmund 
What  will  become  of  us  both  ? 
Alice 


You  shall  flee. 
Alone  ?    Never. 
Flee. 
With  you. 


Edmund 

Alice 

Edmund 


Alice 
A  thousand  times  no ! 

YORICK 

Alice !    Alice ! 

In  the  wings,  calling.    Alice  starts. 


88  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  deama 

Edmund 
You  see  ?    Even  now  you  cannot  breathe,  you  scarce 
can  stand. 

Alice 
He  seeks  me. 

With  terror. 
Edmund 
To  ask  if  you  are  guilty.    What  will  you  answer  ? 

Alice 
What  can  I  answer  ?    That  I  am ! 
With  firmness. 
Edmund 
And  afterwards? 

Alice 
Afterwards.  .  .  .  ?    Do  you  think  he  will  be  capable 
of  killing  me?     (As  tho  animated  iy  a  flattering  hope.) 
Oh,  if  he  would  kill  me !  .  .  .  . 

Showing  joy. 
Edmund 
His  fury  or  your  own  grief  will  put  an  end  to  your 
life. 

Alice 
In  truth  ?    What  comfort ! 

Edmund 
And  you  seek  not  your  own  death  alone,  but  mine 
as  well. 


Yours! 


Alice! 


act  ii — scene  iv  89 

Alice 

With  pain  and  surprise. 

YORICK 


Outside,  J)ut  nearer. 

Edmund 
He  is  coming. 

Alice 

I    shall   keep    silence.  ...  I    shall    feign  ....  0 

Shamelessness,  give  me  thine  effrontery,  and  with  it  let 

the  criminal  mock  the  judge.    I  cannot  be  more  wretched ; 

but  have  no  fear,  no  fear ;  still  can  I  be  more  despicable. 

YORICK 

Alice ! 

Alice 
Here  am  I.     Come  hither. 
Going  toward  where  Torick's  voice  sounds. 

Edmund 
Wait ! 

Yorick  enters  at  the  left. 


90  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

SCENE  FIVE 

The  Same  and  Yorick 

YORICK 

Ah! 

Becoming  confused  at  sight  of  Alice. 
Alice 
You  are  seeking  me,  and  I  you,  and  it  seems  as  we 
were  fleeing  one  another. 

Smiling,  with  apparent  serenity. 
Yorick 
(Aside.)  Is  this  woman  joyous  now?   (To  Edmund.) 
A  moment  must  I  speak  alone  with  Alice.    Await  me  in 
my  room. 

Edmund 
Aside,  as  he  goes  out  door  at  right. 
If  need  be,  I'll  defend  her. 

SCENE  SIX 

Yorick  and  Alice 

Yorick  contemplates  Alice  a  moment  in  silence.    Then 

seats  himself  on  the  settle. 

Yorick 
Come  hither,  Alice,  come.    (Alice  takes  a  few  steps 
toward  him.)     Come  nearer.     (She  goes  nearer.)     Sit 
down  at  my  side.    Perhaps  you  are  afraid  of  me. 


act  ii — scene  vi  91 

Alice 
Afraid?     Why? 

Sitting  heside  Yorick. 

YORICK 

(Aside.)  She  seems  a  different  woman. 

Alice 
What  do  you  want  of  me  ? 

Yorick  gets  up. 

YoRICK 

(Aside.)  She  serene,  I  confused.  .  .  .  There's  a  trans- 
gressor here.    Is  it  she?     Is  it  I? 

Alice 

(Aside.)  My  strength  is  leaving  me. 
Yorick  sits  again. 
Yorick 

Alice,  'tis  common  for  a  man  to  awake  to  love  a1^ 
the  first  light  of  youth.  Then  runs  he  wildly  in  pursuit 
of  the  pleasure  which  he  sees  before  him.  In  the  bram- 
bles of  life's  highway  he  gets  entangled, — one  and 
another  amour,  futile  and  shameful,  leaving  in  each  one 
of  them  a  fragment  of  his  heart.  Whole  and  pure  was 
mine  when  I  saw  you  and  loved  you.  And  ah !  how 
lively  is  love's  strength  in  the  autumn  of  one's  years 
when  hitherto  one  has  not  loved  and  when  it  is  no  longer 
possible  ever  to  love  again !  Thus  I  love  you,  Alice.  Do 
you  love  me,  as  your  heart  can  love  ?    Answer. 


92.  tamayo  y  baus — a  new  drama 

Alice 
I.  .  .  .  Certainly.  ...  I   owe  you  so  many   kind- 
nesses. .  .  . 

YORICK 

Kindnesses.  .  . !  Why,  we  talk  not  now  of  kind- 
nesses!   Do  you  love  me? 

Alice 
Don 't  you  know  that  I  do  ?    Am  I  not  your  wife  ? 

YORICK 

Do  you  love  me  ? 

Alice 
Yes,  sir,  yes;  I  love  you. 

YORICK 

In  very  truth.  ...  in  honesty?  Can  I  believe  it? 
(With  inner  joy.)  For  God's  sake  tell  me  the  truth. 
You  love  no  one  but  me  ?    No  one  ? 

Alice 
Why  do  you  ask  me? 

Frightened  and  trying  to  rise. 

YORICK 

You  do  not  love  another? 

With  energy,  restraining  her. 

Alice 
Nay,  sir,  nay.  .  . 


ACT  II — SCENE  VI  93 

YORICK 

Have  a  care,  for  I  think  you  are  deceiving  me.  Ah ! 
(Conceiving  a  flattering  hope.)  Perchance  you  love 
another  and  have  not  yet  declared  your  love.  If  that  be 
true,  do  not  hesitate  to  confess  it  to  me.  Humbly  would 
I  accept  the  punishment  for  having  desired  as  a  wife  one 
who  might  have  been  my  daughter :  not  with  the  severity 
of  a  husband,  but  with  the  gentleness  of  a  father  would 
I  hear  your  confession:  I  would  make  plain  to  you  the 
difference  there  is  between  the  wicked  love  that  pleases 
hell,  and  the  wifely  love  that  heaven  awaits  with  palms 
and  crowns.  I  should  redouble  my  cares  and  kindnesses 
toward  you,  showing  you  my  affection  with  ever  gentler 
and  more  powerful  charms.  Continually  would  I  raise 
prayers  to  Him  who  can  do  all  not  to  loose  thee  from  His 
hand ;  and  doubt  it  not,  my  glory,  light  of  my  eyes,  doubt 
it  not,  Alice  my  beloved,  I  should  succeed  at  last  in  con- 
quering my  rival,  in  winning  your  whole  heart,  and  in 
returning  you  to  the  path  of  honor  and  of  happiness; 
for  you  are  good,  your  heart  noble  and  generous;  you 
may  fall  thru  error,  not  through  deliberate  purpose ;  and 
once  the  ugliness  of  sin  be  known,  you  will  flee  from  it  in 
horror;  and  knowing  my  affection.  .  .  .  Oh,  my  girl, 
believe  me,  one  who  loves  so  much  can  be  loved  a  little 
in  return. 


94  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Alice 
(Aside.)  I  am  stifling,  dying. 

YORICK 

You  say  nothing?  You  are  silent?  You  love  and 
have  already  declared  your  love  ?  Nay,  hide  it  not  from 
me.  Justice  requires  that  guilt  be  punished.  The  woman 
who  wrongs  her  husband  ought  not  to  remain  unpun- 
ished.  .  .  And  if  his  sole  desire  in  life  be  but  to  shield 
her  from  the  least  vexation,  no  other  happiness  than  only 
to  adore  her,  no  other  existence  save  what  comes  from 
her;  if  for  that  unhappy  man  it  is  all  one  to  lose  his 
wife's  affection,  or  to  despair  and  die;  and  if  she  knows 
it,  and  condemns  him  to  suffer  the  tortures  of  the  damned 
in  this  life  and  the  next.  .  .  .  Oh,  then  the  iniquity  is 
so  great  that  the  mind  cannot  embrace  it ;  so  great  that 
it  seems  a  lie!  ...  .  Nay,   why,  I   cannot   think  that 

you Toward    me    such    infamy?      Toward    me? 

You  can  have  been  capable.  .  .  .  ?    No no 

Why,  1  tell  you  I  cannot  think  it.  ...  I  cannot  believe 
it.  ...  I  M'ill  not  believe  it !  (Covering  his  face  with  his 
hands  and  weeping  heavily  .  Alice  while  Yorick  is  speak- 
ing gives  indications  of  constantly  increasing  anxiety  and 
grief.  She  tries  several  times  to  rise,  hut  her  husband 
restrains  her;  conquered  at  last  by  her  emotions  she  slips 
gradually  to  the  floor  until  she  remains  on  her  knees 
before  Yorick.     When  the  latter  sees,  on  removing  his 


ACT  II — SCENE  VI  95 

hands  from  his  eyes,  that  Alice  is  kneeling,  he  leaves 
her  in  fury.)  Kneeling?  (Alice  leans  her  head  on  the 
settle,  her  back  to  the  audience.)  Kneeling !  If  she  were 
innocent  she  would  not  kneel.  So  then  I  was  not  in 
error  ? — Wretch !  (He  goes  rapidly  toward  his  wife,  with 
a  threatening  gesture.  Seeing  that  she  does  not  move,  he 
stops  a  moment  and  then  approaches  her  with  an  entirely 
different  expression.)  What  is  this?  What's  the  mat- 
ter ?  (Raising  her  head  a7id  placing  a  hand  on  her  hrow.) 
Unburden  yourself.  .  .  .  Weep.  .  .  .  (Alice  breaks  into 
bitter  sobs.)  Are  you  going  to  die.  .  ,  .  ?  But  what  am 
I  doing?  (Controlling  himself.)  What  matters  it  to  me 
whether  she  die?  (With  new  indignation,  leaving  her.) 
No,  she  will  not  die,  her  grief 's  a  lie,  her  tears  are  a  lie ! 
All  is  a  lie !    She  is  a  woman. 

Alice 
Ah! 
Her  breathing  stops  and  she  falls  prone  on  the  floor, 

YORICK 

Alice  !  (Running  to  her  again  in  surprise.)  Alice ! 
Come,  that's  all  past.  .  .  .  Calm  yourself.  .  .  .  Tomor- 
row we  shall  see  what  must  be  done.  .  .  .  Today  we  must 
think  of  other  things.  The  drama  of  this  evening.  .  .  . 
Rouse  yourself.  .  .  .  Courage,  for  God's  sake!  (Shake- 
speare appears  at  rear  door.  Yorick  straightens  up 
suddenly  and  places  himself  before  his  wife  as  tho  to 


96  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

hide  her.)    Eh !  Who  is  it?    What's  wanted?    Why  does 
anyone  enter  here? 

SCENE  SEVEN  , 

The  Same  and  Shakespeare 

Shakespeare 
Are  you  so  blind  that  you  do  not  know  me  ? 

YORICK 

Shakespeare !    He ! 

Shakespeare 
Rise,  Alice. 

Approaching  her. 

YORICK  '  , 

Don't  touch  her! 

Shakespeare 
Since  you  have  taken  to  tragedy  you  have  become 
intolerable. 

He  causes  Alice  to  rise,  and  she  stands  leaning  against 

him  and  continues  to  weep  in  anguish. 

Yorick 

Did  I  not  forbid  you  to  touch  her  ? 

Approaching  his  wife. 

Shakespeare 

Stand  back. 

With  great  calm,  stretching  out  his  arm  to  restrain  him. 


ACT  n — SCENE  vn  97 

YORICK 

Am  I  dreaming  ? 

Shakespeare 
I  would  swear  that  you  are.    Or  rather  that  you  are 
drunk  or  mad.    Let  us  go  to  your  room,  Alice. 

He  goes  slowly  with  her  toward  the  door  at  left. 

YORICK 

What!    You?     (Following  them.) 

Shakespeare 
Wait  a  little.    (Stopping  a  moment.)    We  two  shall 
talk  anon. 

YORICK 

Are  you  an  insensible  stone  in  human  form? 

Shakespeare 
Are  you  a  woman  in  a  man 's  form  ? 
He  begins  to  walk  again. 

Yorick 

I  have  said  that  Alice  is  not  to  leave  me ! 

Recovering  his  vigor  and  going  toward  his  wife  as  if  to 

separate  her  from  Shakespeare.    The  latter,  leaving 

Alice,  who  leans  on  the  table  with  both  hands, 

impels     Yorick    toward    the    front    with 

imposing    serenity,    looking    him 

fixedly  in  the  eyes. 


98  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Shakespeare 
I  bade  you  wait  awhile ! 

He  returns  slowly  to  the  side  of  Alice  and  goes  with  her 
through  the  door  at  left  ivithout  for  a  moment 
taking  his  glance  from  Yorick,  who 
remains  motionless,  stupefied. 

SCENE  EIGHT 
Yorick 

After  a  hrief  pause  he  puts  his  hand  to  his  head  and^ 
looks  about  him  as  if  wakening  from  a  dream. 

Yorick 
What  is  this?  Has  the  reality  of  life  been  trans- 
formed into  a  marvelous  drama  whose  denouement  can- 
not be  foreseen?  Am  I  the  victim  of  obscure  machina- 
tions of  witches,  goblins,  or  demons?  .  .  .  Shake- 
speare !  .  .  .  Yes,  there  is  no  doubt .  .  .  no,  no ;  impossible ! 
What  torture,  always  to  live  in  darkness !  Light !  God 
eternal,  give  me  light ! — And  he  went  away  with  her  !  .  .  . 
They  are  together !  .  .  .  Damnation !  1  shall  separate 
them! 

Going  toward  door  through  which  Shakespeare  and  Alice 
had  gone. 


ACT  II — SCENE  IX  99 

SCENE  NINE 
YoRiCK  and  Walton 

Walton 
As  he  appears  at  door  at  hack. 
Time's  up.    And  here  I  am. 

YORICK 

With  an  appearance  of  extraordinary  joviality. 
Oh,     it's     Walton! — Welcome,     Walton,     welcome 
heartily. 

Walton 
Well  met,  Yorick. 

YoRICK 

This  is,  methinks,  to  keep  one's  promise  faithfully. 

Walton 
Not  otherwise  do  I  keep  mine. 

YORICK 

And  I  warrant  you  come  determined  still  to  hide 
from  me  what  I  would  leam. 

Walton 
Assuredly. 

Yorick 
And  for  that  threat  of  mine,  you'd  show  me  now 
your 're  not  afraid  of  me. 

Walton 
Precisely. 


100  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS — A  NEW  DRAMA 

YORICK 

'Tis  thus  I  like  to  see  men !  Well,  for  us  there  '11  be 
no  quarrel.  (Placing  a  hand  on  his  shoulder.)  Away 
with  trifles! 

Walton 

As  you  will.  In  faith  I  thought  not  to  find  you  so 
reasonable. 

YORICK 

Well,  there's  no  longer  any  necessity  for  your  tell- 
ing me  anything.  'Tis  I,  on  t'other  side,  who'll  tell 
you  a  mightily  facetious  little  story. 

Walton 
You'll  tell  it  me? 

YoRICK 

There  was  once  upon  a  time  a  youth  of  tender  age, 
full  of  ardour,  full  of  fire.  He  fell  madly  in  love  with  a 
very  beautiful  lady.  (Walton  shudders.)  She  returned 
his  love.    What  joy !    They  married.    Measureless  glory ! 

Walton 
Very  much  disturbed. 
Where  are  you  going  to  stop? 

YoRICK 

In  peace  were  they  enjoying  all  that  happiness  when 
one  night  as  the  youth  returned  home  unexpectedly, 
behold  he  finds  his  wife.  .  . 


act  ii — scene  ix  101 

Walton 
'Tis  false.     'Tis  a  lie ! 

Impetuously,  unable  to  contain  himself. 

YORICK 

Behold  he  finds  his  wife  in  the  arms  of  a  man. 

Walton 
Damnation ! 

YORICK 

Damnation  he  probably  said,  for  the  ease  would 
warrant  as  much.  And  imagine  what  he  afterwards 
would  say  on  learning  that  that  man,  a  lord  of  high 
degree,  from  a  long  time  back  had  been  in  amorous  rela- 
tions with  his  wife. 

Walton 

Stop  !    'Tis  a  vile  calumny ! 

YORICK 

He  determined  to  take  vengeance  on  his  spouse,  but 
the  spouse  vanished  forever  by  magic  art. 
Walton 
Will  you  be  silent? 

YORICK 

He  determined  to  take  vengeance  on  the  lover,  and 
the  lover  had  his  servants  beat  him  unmercifully, 
Walton 
Blind  with  rage,  seizing  Yorick  hy  his  arm. 
What,  still  you'll  not  be  silent? 


102  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

YORICK 

And  still  you  will  not  speak?  {In  the  same  tone  as 
Walton,  and  seizing  him  by  the  arm.)  Ha,  ha,  ha !  The 
little  story  seems  to  have  pleased  you.  {Laughing.) 
Today  the  cudgelled  husband,  with  a  different  vocation 
and  twenty  years  more  than  he  then  had,  far  from  the 
place  of  the  occurrence,  believes  it  to  be  buried  in  pro- 
found obscurity;  but  the  poor  fool  is  deceived.  'Tis 
known  he  bears  a  false  name  to  hide  the  real  one  which 
had  been  stained  with  dishonor. 

Speaking  with  new  energy. 

Walton 
Know  you  what  you  are  doing,  Yorick? 

YORICK 

And  there  lack  not  those  who  point  at  him  the  finger 
of  scorn. 

Walton 
Oh,  madness! 

YORICK 

There  lack  not  those  who  say  as  they  see  him  pass, 
* '  There  goes  an  infamous  man  ;  because  the  husband,  out- 
raged and  unavenged,  is  infaiHoais." 

Walton 
Then  who  more  infamous  than  you? 


ACT  II — SCENE  IX  103 

YORICK 

Eh?     How  say  you?     You  are  speaking  at  last? 
Go  on.    Make  youself  plain.  .  .    Speak.  .  . 

Walton 
I  at  least  discovered  the  deception  at  once. 

YORICK 

Speak ! 

Walton 
I  at  least  made  trial  to  avenge  myself. 

YORICK 

And  I?    Speak!    And  I? 

Walton 
You  arc  blind. 

YORICK 

Speak ! 

Walton 
You  live  in  peace  with  dishonor. 

YORICK 

Speak ! 

Walton 
Your  wife.  .  . 

YORICK 

My  wife.  .  .  ?     Speak!  .  .  .    Nay,  be  silent,  or  by 
God,  I'll  tear  your  tongue  out! 


104  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Walton 
Do  you  perceive?    You  are  more  infamous  than  I. 

YORICK 


My  wife.  .  .  ? 
Deceives  you. 


Walton 


YORICK 

Deceives  me?  Let  me  see  it;  prove  it  to  me.  You 
have  unquestionably  convincing  proofs,  proofs  clearer 
than  the  light  of  the  sun.  So  horrible  an  accusation  is  not 
launched  unless  i  it  can  be  justified.  Well,  then,  give  me 
the  proofs;  give  them  to  me.  Why  do  you  delay?  You 
have  no  proofs? — In  very  truth  he  has  none. — He  has 
none !  That  knew  I  absolutely ! — This  man  does  dare 
to  call  an  angel  devil  and  would  be  credited  on  his  mere 
word. 

Walton 

I  say  again  that  Alice  is  unfaithful  to  you. 

YORICK 

I  say  again  that  you  shall  prove  it.  ( Going  close  to 
Walton.)  And  if  you  do  not  instant  prove  it,  say  you 
have  lied ;  say  Alice  is  an  honourable  wife ;  say  that  she 
loves  no  one  but  me ;  say  that  the  world  respects  her  and 
admires  her;  say  that  heaven  delights  itself  in  contem- 
plation of  her.     Say  it!    Zounds,  you  shall  say  it! 


ACT  n — SCENE  X  ^  105 

Walton 
Alice  has  a  lover. 

YORICK 

That  you  say  ? 

Walton 
Yes. 

YORICK 

And  do  not  prove  it  ?    Woe  on  you,  wretch,  for  never 
will  you  say  that  word  again ! 

Hurling  himself  at  Walton  as  if  to  strangle  him. 

SCENE  TEN 

The  Same;  Alice,  Shakespeare,  and  Edmund 

Shakespeare  and  Alice  enter  from  the  left,  and  Edmund 
from  the  right. 
Edmund  and  Alice 
Ah! 

Shajkespeare 
Placing  himself  between  Yorick  and  Walton. 
Hold! 

Walton 
Confounded  on  seeing  him. 
Shakespeare ! 

Shakespeare 
Low  to  Walton,  with  a  very  heated  look. 
To  break  a  promise  is  a  villainy  supreme. 


106  tamato  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Walton 
Oh!     (Showing  the  effect  that  Shakespeare's  words 
have  had  on  him.    Then  he  goes  rapidly  toward  the  rear.) 
You  will  reap  tears  of  blood  for  this  thing  you  have 
done.    (To  Yorick.    Exit.) 

Shakespeare 
What  has  he  told  you  ? 

Yorick 
What  I  already  knew.     That  my  wife  has  a  lover. 
That  lover  is  yourself ! 

Shakespeare 
I? 

Alice 
God  in  heaven !  .  .  .  . 

Edmund 
Approaching  Yorick  as  if  to  speak  to  him. 
Ah! 

Shakespeare 
(With  wrath)  I ! You  fool !    (Bursting  sud- 
denly into  laughter.)     By  heaven,  I  needs  must  laugh 
at  you. 

Yorick 
Not  he ! — Not  you  ?    'Tis  not  my  friend  who  wrongs 
and  kills  me?     (With  tender  emotion.)  Then  my  mis- 
fortune holds  some   comfort.     I   apprehended  two  be- 


ACT  II — SCENE  X  107 

trayals,  and  one's  disproved.    William,  pardon;  pardon 
me !    I  am  so  full  of  misery. 

Shakespeare 
Fervently,  much  moved. 
Then  if  you  are  unhappy,  come  here  and  weep  on  a 
loyal  breast. 

YORICK 

Throwing  himself  into  his  arms,  and  breaking  down. 
William !    My  beloved  William ! 
Edmund 
In  a  tone  low  hut  full  of  terror. 
Alice?  .... 

Alice 
With  an  accent  of  despair. 
Yes! 

Edmund 
Tomorrow ! 

Alice 
Tomorrow ! 
Edmund  goes  through   door  at   rear,  Alice  at   right; 
Yorick  and  Shakespeare  remain  in  each  others'  arms. 

Curtain 


ACT  THREE 

PART  ONE 

The  room  of  Yorick  and  Alice  in  the  theatre.  A  long 
table  with  a  cover,  two  small  mirrors,  theatre  trappings 
and  lights;  two  clothes  racks,  the  clothing  thereon  cov- 
ered hy  long  curtains.  A  few  chairs.  A  door  at  the 
right,  which  opens  onto  the  stage. 

SCENE  ONE 

The  Author  and  the  Prompter's  Attendant. 

They  enter  from  door  at  right.     The  Attendant  carries 

an  open  manuscript  in  his  hand,  and  a  theatre  lamp 

with  a  lighted  candle. 

Attendant 
Sure  Mistress  Alice  would  keep  water  here. 

Author 
Ay,  here's  a  bottle. 

Pointing  to  a  bottle  on  the  table. 
Attendant 
There ! 
Pouring  water  into  a  glass.    The  Author  drinks. 


110  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Author 
Ah,  now  I  breathe  again.  .  .  .  My  heart  was  in  my 
throat.  .  .  .  My  sight  began  to  cloud.  ...  So  many 
emotions!  .  .  ,  Such  joy!  .  .  .  Ouf.  .  .  .  (He  takes  a 
theatre-hill  and  fans  himself  tvith  it.)  Well,  now,  tell 
me,  master  Thomas,  what  think  you  of  my  drama? 

Attendant 
What  think   I?     Gad!     The  prettiest  thing!  .  .  . 
And  this  last  act  will  fetch  'em  like  the  rest. 

Author 
Heaven  grant  you  be  not  in  error. 

Attendant 
In  error — I?     'Slife,  I'm  no  fool.  ...  I  said — the 
first  rehearsal — your  play'd  please  'em  nigh  as  much  as 
one  of  Shakespeare's. 

Author 
Shakespeare!  .  .  .  Oh,  Shakespeare!  .  .  .  (With  a 
tone  of  exaggerated  praise.)  'Tis  certain  there'll  be 
some  who'll  try  to  make  me  overshadow  him.  .  .  .  But 
I  shall  never  believe.  .  .  .  Oh,  never.  I  am  not  vain — 
oh,  not  in  the  least. 


ACT  III— SCENE  11  111 


SCENE  TWO 

The  Same,  and  Edmund,  the  latter  in  the  costume  of 
Manfredo. 

Edmund 
Tell  me,  Thomas;  Mistress  Alice  does  not  leave  the 
stage  again  until  I  go  on  ? 

Attendant 
Ay,  so. 

Leafing  over  the  manuscript. 
Edmund 
And  I  am  on  the  boards  until  the  very  end? 

Attendant 
Well,  don't  you  know  you  are?  .... 
Leafing  again  the  manuscript. 
Edmund 
(Aside.)     Once  the  play's  over  'twill  be  no  longer 
possible  to  get  it  into  her  hands.  .  .  .  What  a  fatality! 
(Going  toward  door.) 

Author 
Let's  see,  now,  Master  Edmund,  how  you  comport 
yourself  in  the  scene  of  the  challenge.  Truth  to  say,  I 
find  you  .  .  .  well,  a  little  .  .  .  you  know  ...  in  the 
rehearsals  you  were  very  much  better;  so  have  a  care, 
eh? 


112  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Edmund 
Ay,  sir,  ay.  .  .  . 

He  goes  out,  rapt  in  thought, 

SCENE  THREE 

The  Author,  the  Attendant;  then  Walton,  the  latter 
in  the  costume  of  Landolfo. 

Author 
He  scarcely  deigns  to  answer  me !     One  breaks  his 
head  composing  plays  like  this    one,  only    to    have    a 
choleric  little  comedian.  .  .  . 

Walton 
Edmund — has  he  just  now  left  here? 
To  the  Attendant. 
Attendant 
Ay,  sir. 

Walton 
What  was  he  after? 

Attendant 
Nothing. — Only  to  know  when  Mistress  Alice  leaves 
the  stage. 

Author 
Is't  not  true,  Master  Walton,  that  Edmund's  play- 
ing but  indifferently? 

Attendant 
Something  must  be  out  with  him  tonight. 


act  iii — scene  iii  113 

Author 
In  truth,  now,  twice  when  I've  gone  to  his  room  I 
found  him  talking  low  to  Dervil,  and  seeing  me  they 
changed  their  conversation.    Actors  ought  to  be  forbid- 
den to  receive  visitors  in  the  theatre. 
Walton 
What's  he— this  Dervil? 

Author 
The  Captain  of  some  bark  that  sails  in  the  morning. 

Attendant 
And  mark  you,  when  the  Captain's  gone,  Master 
Edmund  asks  for  some  ink  and  begins  to  write  a  letter. 
Author 
To  write  a  letter  while  a  play  is  on ! 

Walton 
(Aside.)     A  letter  ...  a  bark   that    sails    in    the 
morning.  .  .  . 

Attendant 
Oh,  since  we  speak  of  letters;  here  is  the  one  you 
take  on  in  this  act  to  deliver  to  Count  Octavio. 
Giving  him  a  paper  folded  like  a  letter. 
Walton 
Give  it  to  me. 
He  takes  the  paper  and  puts  it  in  the  pocket  of  his  suit. 
One  hears  great  applause  and  murmurs  of  approval. 
Walton  changes  countenance. 


114  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Author 
Eh,  how's  that?     Whose  was  it? 

Attendant 
Tush,  Master  Yoriek's — I'll  wages  'twas  for  him. 
He  hurries  out. 

SCENE  FOUR 
Walton  and  the  Author. 

Author 
How  that  fellow's  playing  to  night!  .  .  .  When  I 
think  how  I'd  have  kept  him  from  the  role  of  Count,  I 
could  run  my  head  against  a  wall.  But,  look  you,  who'd 
have  dreamed  that  a  comedian,  an  ordinary  player  .  .  .  ? 
From  this  day  on  he  leaves  behind  all  other  actors  every- 
where.   Nay,  he's  gone  beyond  yourself. 

Walton 
Indeed  ? 

Trying  to  hide  his  annoyance. 

Author 
Far  beyond. 

Walton 
If  such  is  your  opinion,  think  you  'tis  fit  or  prudent 
to  tell  me  to  my  face  ? 

Seizing  him  in  wrath  by  one  hand  and  dragging  him  to 

front. 


act  iii — scene  v  115 

Author 
Pardon.  .  .  .    (Frightened.)    I  thought     .    .    .    the 
glory  of  a  companion  .  .  . 

Walton 
You're  a  fool!  .  .  . 
Letting  go  his  hand  with  an  air  of  disdain. 
Author 
How  say  you?    I  a  fool?  .  .  . 

SCENE  FIVE 

The  Same,  and  Attendant. 

Attendant 
Well,  even  as  I  said ;  that  last  was  all  for  him. 

Author 
(Aside.)     He    is   eaten    up    with    envy.     (Aloud.) 
Bravo,  Yorick,  bravo!     (Exit.) 

Attendant 
And  you,  what's  your  opinion  of  this  Yorick? 

Walton 
You're  a  good  fellow;  you  work  zealously,  and  I 
mean  to  have  Shakespeare  fatten  your  wage. 
Attendant 
Well,  this  is  kindness !    You  know  I  have  four  chil- 
dren— four ! 

Walton 
So  you  were  asking  what  I  think  of  Yorick. 


116  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Attendant 
Yes,  sir. 

Walton 
Well,  marry,  now.  .  .  .  What  think  you  of  him? 
Showing  himself  to  he  very  affable  toward  the  Attendant. 
Attendant 
I? 

Walton 
Yes,  tell  me.     This  morning  you  were  saying    he 
would  do  it  miserably. 

Attendant 
Just  so. 

Walton 
So  you,  then,  think  .  .  .  ?     (With  joy.) 

Attendant 
Not  think:    I'm  sure  indeed.  .  .  . 

Walton 
Of  what? 

Attendant 
That  I  was  talking  nonsense. 
Walton 
Ah!  ... 

Attendant 
A  rare  surprise  he's  given  us.     'Twas  plain  enough 
in  the  first  act  that  he  was  .  .  .  well  .  .  .  something  at 
a  loss;  but  later,  marvelous!  and  how  he  played  some 


ACT   III — SCENE  V  117 

scenes ! — magnificent !  Why,  once  I  stood  so  mazed 
alistening  to  him,  I  had  not  wits  enough  to  give  the  lady's 
cue ;  and  but  the  author  was  anear  me,  and  brought  me 
round  with  a  mighty  yell,  the  play  'd  have  ended  without 
more  ado.  Mark  you,  Master  Walton :  when  I  saw  you 
do  Macbeth,  saith  I,  naught  could  be  greater  .  .  .  yet 
now  .  .  . 

Walton 

Go  to !  (Interrupting  him.)  Look  you  blunder  not 
afresh. 

Attendant 

Eh  ?  (As  tho  frightened,  and  leafing  over  the  manu- 
script.) No,  no,  this  scene's  prodigiously  long. — Ay,  it 
can  be  wagered  that  as  long  as  Master  Yorick's  in  the 
company,  the  well-stuffed  parts  are  for  himself  alone. 
Who  can  dispute  them  with  him? 
Walton 

By  the  mass,  3^ou  wag  an  idle  tongue. 
Attendant 

Enthusiasm  breeds  a  deal  of  talk.  And  egad  ...  I 
am  fair  daft  in  Master  Yorick's  case.  And  so  be  all — 
all  save  the  principals,  who  murmur  on  the  sly,  and  give 
him  now  and  then  a  covert  nip.  Envy,  and  naught 
besides — pure  envy! 

Walton 

Wilt  leave  me  in  peace  ? 


118  tamayo  y  baus — a  new  drama 

Attendant 
(Aside.)    What  a  face !    How  he  glares !    Fool  that 
I  am!  why,  it  is  himself  is  losing  most.  .  .  .  Odso,  my 
little  friend,  patience,  and  swallow  your  gorge ! 
Walton 
What  mutter  you  beneath  your  breath? 

Attendant 
I  mutter  not.  .  .  .  Quite  otherwise — 

Walton 
Take  yourself  off,  or  by  my  life  .  .  . 

Attendant 
I  go  ...  I  go.  ..  .  (Walton  lets  himself  fall  into 
a  chair  in  exasperation.    The  Attendant  makes  mouths  at 
Walton,     unperceived.    Aside.)     Rave    .  .  .    rave    .  .  . 
rave  .  .  .     (He  goes  out.) 

SCENE  SIX 

Walton 
He  deliberates  a  moment. 
How  right  my  guess!  Yorick  showered  with  plau- 
dits !  What  fame !  So  big  a  triumph !  Greater  than 
mine,  yea,  a  thousand  times  greater!  I  pardon  not  his 
former  insult  .  .  .  and  this  thing  now,  who  could  for- 
give it?  Yet  for  my  satisfaction  where 's  a  means  that 
seems  not  common  and  contemptible !  I  'd  have  a  venge- 
ance matching  the  offence,  where  I  might  say  with  pride : 


ACT  III — SCENE  VII  119 

behold,  here  is  a  vengeance !  (Another  hurst  of  applause 
is  heard.)  Another  outburst!  (Looks  thro  door  at 
right.)  Ah!  (Becoming  calmer.)  For  Alice.  She's 
leaving  the  stage.  .  .  .  Edmund  is  going  on  at  the  same 
entrance.  .  .  .  They  look  at  each  other.  .  .  .  Ah ! — yea, 
there's  no  doubt.  .  .  .  'Twas  as  rapid  as  thought,  but  I 
caught  it  plain.  .  .  .  Passing,  he  gave  her  something. 
What  can  it  be?  Perchance  the  letter  that  was  men- 
tioned ?  .  .  .  The  proof  that  Yorick  demanded  of  me  ?  . . 
Suppose  it  were  a  letter!  If  fate  would  help  me!  .  .  . 
She  comes.  .  .  .  Ah ! 

He  hides  behind  the  curtain  that  hangs  from  one  of  the 

racks. 

SCENE  SEVEN 

Walton  and  Alice,  the  latter  in  the  costume  of 
Beatrice. 

Alice  enters  at  right,  looking  back  as  she  closes  the  door 

noiselessly;  with  signs  of  terror  she  advances  to  the 

center,  and   at  last  opens  her  left  hand,  disclosing  a 

paper  which  she  looks  at  attentively. 

Walton 

Ay,  'tis  Edmund's  letter. 

With  an  expression  of  joy,   showing  his  head  for  a 

moment  through  the  curtains.    Alice  rapidly  approaches 

the  table,  where  there  are  lights,  and  reads  the  letter 

with  visible  tremblirig,  glancing  often  toward  the  door. 


120  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Alice 
"Till  now  I've  had  no  certainty  that  we  could  flee 
tomorrow.  ...  At  last,  all 's  ready  .  .  .  tomorrow  morn 
at  five  I  shall  await  you  in  the  street  ...  we  shall  never 
separate.  .  .  .  My  love  will  last  as  long  as  life.  .  .  .  Let 
us  flee :  there  is  no  other  escape ;  let  us  flee,  my  darling 
Alice,  and  .  .  .".  (She  continues  reading  in  a  low 
voice.)  Flee!  .  .  .  Abandon  that  unhappy  man!  .  .  . 
And  make  the  wrong  irrevocable  .  .  . !  Eternal  shame ! 
.  .  .  Never !  .  .  .  Death  is  better.  (She  holds  the  paper 
to  the  light  as  if  to  hum  it.  Walton,  who  has  come 
quietly  from  his  hiding  place,  restrains  her  arm.)  Oh ! 
(Seizing  the  paper  with  the  other  hand.)  Walton ! 
Retreating  in  fright. 

Walton 
It  is  I. 

Alice 
Where  were  you? 

Walton 
Behind  that  curtain. 

Alice 
What  do  you  want? 

W.VLTON 

To  see  what  Edmund  says  to  you  in  the  paper  you 
hold  in  your  hand. 


ACT  m — SCENE  vn  121 

Alice 
Pity! 
Leaning  on  the  table  with  an  expression  of  horror. 
Walton 
Give  it  to  me. 

Alice 
Do  not  come  near  me. 

Walton- 
Why  not? 

Alice 
I  shall  cry  out. 

Walton 
Do  so. 

Alice 
What  is  your  purpose  ? 

Walton 
You  will  see. 

Alice 
To  give  it  to  my  husband? 
Walton 
Perhaps. 

Alice 

Tonight!  .  .  .  Here!  .  .  .  During  the  performance 

of  the  play!  .  .  .  'Twould  be  an  unexampled  piece  of 

infamy;  an  atrocious  .  .  .     There  is  no  name  for  such 

a  villainy.    Oh,  pity !  .  .  .  A  little  pity  for  him !    Only 


122  TAMAYO  T  BAUS — A  NEW  DRAMA 

for  him!  I  beseech  you.  .  .  .  By  what  shall  I  beseech 
you?  .  .  .  What  do  you  love?  What  words  wiU  go  the 
quickest  to  your  heart?  Tell  me  what  I  must  do  to 
convince  you. 

Walton 

There's  nothing  could  avail  you.    I  have  some  need 
of  vengeance. 

Alice 

Then  why  should  you  not  take  it?  But  why  must 
this  your  vengeance  come  tonight?  Tomorrow  will  I 
give  to  you  this  paper,  which  is  scorching  my  hand: 
trust  me — I  swear  it.  Tomorrow  shall  my  husband  know 
the  truth.  You  shall  be  present.  With  his  grief  and 
with  mine  your  thirst  for  vengance  shall  be  satisfied. 
You  '11  not  regret  that  you  have  waited  until  the  morrow 
for  this  satisfaction.  You  threaten  me  with  death.  With 
more  than  death.  Let  me  sense  its  coming.  I'll  beg  you 
on  my  knees.  (Falling  at  his  feet.)  Now  am  I  at  your 
feet.  Do  you  grant  me  the  delay  I  ask?  You  do — you 
grant  it,  do  you  not  ?    Tell  me  you  do. 

Walton 
No,  a  thousand  times  no. 

Alice  rises  suddenly,  filled  with  rage. 

Alice 
Ah !    I  took  him  for  a  man,  and  he  is  a  demon.     • 


ACT  ni — SCENE  vm  123 

Walton 
I  am  a  man,  a  man  crushed  down,  a  man  who  takes 
his  vengeance. 

Alice 
Oh! 
Seeing  Yorick  enter  through  door  at  right.    She  thrusts 
the  paper  behind  her,  and  sta)tds  as  though  frozen  with 

terror. 

SCENE  EIGHT 

The  Same,  and  Yorick,  the  latter  in  the  costume  of 
Count  Octavio. 

Yorick 
What  are  you  doing  here?     (To  Walton,  calmly.) 
Think  you  it  is  safe  for  us  to  see  each  other  off  the  stage 
tonight  ? 

Walton 
Nay,  verily;  but  when  you  learn  what's  going  for- 
ward .  .  . 

Yorick 
I  want  to  know  nothing.    (Seating  himself  despond- 
ently.)   This  night  we  belong  to  the  public.    Leave  me. 
Walton 
The  thirst  for  glory  so  possesses  you  that  you  forget 
all  else. 


124  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS — A  NEW  DRAMA 

YORICK 

Thirst  for  glory!  (With  an  expression  of  sadness.) 
Leave  me,  I  beg  you. 

Walton 

The  fact  that  you  once  begged  of  me  convincing 
proof.  .  .  . 

YoRICK 

Rising  and  approaching  Walton. 
What?  .  .  .  What  say  you?  .  .  . 
Alice 

Aside,  coming  out  of  her  stupor. 
But,  is  this  a  dream  ? 

YORICK 

Walton,  .  .  .  Mark  you  that  she  is  here.  .  .  .  (Con- 
trolling himself.)  Remember,  in  my  presence  no  one 
insults  her. — A  proof?  (Without  being  able  to  control 
himself.)     Can  it  be  possible?    Where  is  it? 

Walton 
Bid  your  wife  show  you  her  hands. 

Alice 
Do  not  listen  to  him. 

YORICK 

(To  Walton.)    Away!    Leave  us. 

Walton 
In  one  of  her  hands  she  holds  a  paper. 


act  iii — scene  viu  125 

Alice 
Nay,  can  you  not  see  that  he 's  a  scoundrel  ? 

YORICK 

A  paper!  (Wanting  to  go  toward  his  wife,  and 
with  difficulty  restraining  himself.  To  Walton.) 
Begone. 

Walton 
That  paper  is  a  letter  from  her  lover. 
Alice 
Gripping  the  letter  in  her  hand. 
Ah! 

YORICK 

Ah !  (Running  toward  her.)  Give  me  that  letter, 
Alice. 

Controlling  himself  anew. 
Alice 
'Tis  no  letter.  .  .  .  Said  he  it  was  a  letter?     He 
lies;  believe  him  not. 

YORICK 

He  accuses  you,  justify  yourself.  If  that  paper  is 
not  a  letter,  you  can  with  ease  confound  your  false 
accuser.    Do  so. 

Alice 

In  very  truth  .  .  .  I'll  tell  you.  .  .  .  This  letter  .  .  . 

YORICK 

I  must  see  it. 


126  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Alice 
Giving  way  to  her  despair. 
You  cannot  see  it. 

YORICK 

Cannot?     (Giving  loose  reign  to  his  anger.)     Give 
it  me. 

Suddenly  controlling  her  with  one  hand,  and  with  the 
other  trying  to  take  the  paper  away. 
Alice 
Oh! 
Making  a  violent  effort  she  succeeds  in  getting  away 
from  Yorick  and  runs  to  the  door.     Yorick  pursues  and 
holds  her,  throwing  the  holt. 
Yorick 
What  would  you  ?    Do  you  wish  to  make  public  my 
dishonor  ? 

Alice 
Pity  me,  O  thou  Mother  of  the  Destitute. 

Walton 
You  cannot  thwart  him.     'Twere  better  you  should 
yield. 

Alice 

Who  then  gives  you  the  right  to  instruct  me  ?   Force 

him  be  silent,  Yorick.     For  you,  do  what  you  will,  you 

are  my  husband,  you  have  some  right  to  insult  me ;  but 

let  that  man  insult  me  not,  nor  speak  to  me,  nor  look  at 


ACT  III — SCENE  VIII  127 

me.  No  woman,  not  the  vilest  of  the  vile,  deserves  the 
shaiiie  of  having  one  like  him  dare  look  at  her.  (Walton 
continues  looking  at  her  with  a  smile  of  triumph.)  I 
bade  you  look  not  on  me !  Yorick,  still  he  turns  his  eyes 
on  mine ! 

Blows  arc  heard  on  the  door. 
Yorick 
Do  you  hear?    I  must  go  on  the  stage. 

Alice 
Go,  go,  for  God 's  sake ! 

Attendant 
Outside,  calling. 
Yorick !     Yorick ! 

Yorick 
Make  me  not  stoop  to  violence  with  a  woman. 

Attendant 
Yorick,  'tis  your  entrance ! 

Yorick 
You  hear  not  what  they  say? 

Alice 
I  'm  going  mad ! 

Yorick 
My  threats  are  useless?  ... 

Author 
Open,  open.  .  .  .  The  play  will  halt. 


128  TAMAYO  T  BAUS — A  NEW  DRAMA 

YORICK 

Oh,  let  us  end  all  this ! 

He  throws  himself  frantically  on  his  wife,  and  struggles 

with  her  in  an  attempt  to  get  the  letter. 

Alice 

Struggling  with  Yorick. 

Pity,  pity ! 

Yorick 
The  letter !    The  letter ! 

Alice 
No !    You  are  hurting  me ! 

Shakespeare 

Outside,  hammering  the  door. 

In  the  name  of  a  thousand  devils,  will  you  open  ? 

Alice 

Calling  him  with  wild  shrieks. 

Shakespeare !  .  .  .     Shakespeare !  .  .  . 

Yorick 
That  letter! 

Alice 
My  life  first !    (Walton  seizes  the  hand  in  which  she 
holds  the  letter.)    Ah  ! 

Walton 
Taking  the  letter  from  her. 
Behold  it ! 


ACT  III — SCENE  IX  129 

YORICK 

Give  it  to  me. 

Author,  Shakespeare,  and  Attendant 
(Outside.) 
Yorick!  ,  .  .    Yoriek!  .  .  . 
Walton 
Nay  (As  though  stmck  hy  a  sudden  idea).    Not  yet 
awhile. 

Thrusting  the  letter  in  his  pocket. 

YORICK 

No? 

Alice 
What  does  he  say  ? 

SCENE  NINE 

The  Same,  Shakespeare,  the  Author,  and  the 

Attendant. 

The  bolt  of  the  door  breaks,  yielding  under  the  pressure 

from  without,  and  Shakespeare,   the  Author,  and  the 

Attendant  precipitately  enter.    Murmurs  and  poundings 

are  heard. 

Shakespeare 

Walton ! 

Author 
You  have  ruined  me ! 

Attendant 
For  full  two  minutes  the  stage  is  empty. 


130  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

YORICK 

In  a  low  tone  to  Walton. 
That  letter ! 

Walton 
I  said,  not  yet  awhile. 

Author 

What 's  come  upon  you  all  ?    Listen !    Listen ! 

The    murmurings  and  poundings  are  heard. 

Attendant 

Prompting  him  with  the  verses  ivhich  he  is  to  speak  as 

he  goes  on  the  stage. 

''Heaven  cometh  now  at  length  unto  my  aid. 

This  day  I'll  ope  the  prison  of  my  doubt." 

YORICK 

In  a  low  tone,  to  Walton. 
His  name !    His  name,  at  least ! 

Walton 
Afterwards. 

Shakespeare 
Yorick,  the  public  waits. 

Attendant 
The  pit  is  furious ! 

Author 
Haste,  for  God 's  sake ! 

The  three  push  Yorick  toward  the  door. 


ACT  III — SCENE  IX  131 

YORICK 

Leave  me.     I  am  not  an  actor  now  ...  I  am  a 
man.  ...  A  man  in  agony.    Will  you  give  it  to  me  ? 
Freeing  himself,  and  going  toward  Walton. 
Walton 
It  will  not  leave  my  hands  except  to  enter  yours. 
Author 
Seizing  him  again. 
Come !  . 

Attendant 
Prompting  him. 
"Heaven  cometli  now  at  length.  ..." 
Shakespeare 
Before  all  else  comes  duty. 

YORICK 

Oh,  cursed  be  duty!     Cursed  be  myself! 

He  goes  out  precipitately.    Alice  whispers  to 

Shakespeare. 

Attendant 

To  Alice. 

You  now. 

Alice 

In  a  whisper  to  Shakespeare. 

A  letter  from  Edmund.  ... 

Author 

In  distress 

Eh !     Nor  would  she  too  go  on  ? 


132  tamato  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Alice 
Low  to  Shakespeare. 
If  my  husband  sees  it  .  .  . 

Shakespeaee 
Low  to  Alice. 
He  will  not  see  it. 

Author 
Madam !  .  .  . 

Alice 
Support  me,  lead  me. 
She  goes  with  the  Author,  leaning  on  him. 

Attendant 
Leafing  the  manuscript  very  nervously. 
And  you  ready.    This  scene's  a  mere  breath. 

Walton 
I  know. 

Attendant 
Ah !    I  gave  you  the  letter  that  you  now  take  out  ? 

Walton 
Yes. 

Attendant 
I  know  not  where  my  head  is. 
Exit. 


ACT   III — SCENE  X  133 

SCENE  TEN 

Shakespeare  and  Walton  ;  a  moment  later  the 
Author  and  Attendant. 

Shakespeare 
Walton,  that  letter  does  not  belong  to  you. 

Walton 
Nor  to  you. 

Shakespeare 
Its  owner  charges  me  to  recover  it  from  your  hands. 

Walton 
Consider,  then,  how  you'll  proceed  to  get  it. 

Shakespeare 
What!     (With  wrath,  which  he  controls  at  once.) 
Nay,  Walton,  strong  and  noble  hearts  feel  only  pity  for 
another's  misfortune.     Have  pity  on  Yorick:  have  pity 
at  least  on  Alice.    Save  her,  if  that  still  be  possible.  Her 
fault  is  less  grave  than  you  imagine,  and  can  easily  be 
remedied.    Let  us  destroy  that  paper. 
Walton 
Yorick  has  offended  me. 

Shakespeare 
Yorick  has  offended  you?     Well,  take  satisfaction 
for  the  offense,  and  the  Lord  bless  you ;  but  take  it  nobly. 
You  cannot  restore  your  honor  by  committing  a  villainy. 


134  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

And  if  Alice  has  in  no  respect  offended  you,  why  would 
you  make  of  her  a  victim  of  your  rage?  To  wound  at 
one  blow  the  innocent  alike  and  guilty,  is  work  for  sav- 
ages or  madmen.  Not  even  if  that  poor  girl  had  caused 
you  some  annoyance  could  you  take  vengeance  on  her 
without  being  vile  and  cowardly.  Men  vengeance  on 
men;  on  women,  never. 

Walton 
Ask  me  what  you  will,  William,  provided  you  ask 
me  not  for  the  letter. 

Shakespeare 
And  you,  you  scoundrel,  what  can  I  ask  of  you? 
Think  you  me  ignorant  of  your  cause  of  hate   'gainst 
Yorick?    You  hate  him  not  because  he  has  insulted  you, 
you  hate  him  because  you  envy  him. 
Walton 
With  violent  emotion. 
What,  you  dare  to  say  .  .  .  ? 
Shakespeare 
I  have  called  you  vile  and  cowardly.     You  are  a 
thing  still  lower :  you  are  a  slave  of  envy ! 
Walton 
Of  envy — I  ?    No  other  insult  cuts  as  deep  as  that. 

Shakespeare 
Because  it  is  the  one  you  most  deserve.    Yea :  envy 
holds  your  soul  within  its  claws:    envy,  that    bewails 


ACT  III — SCENE  X  135 

another's  good   fortune,  and  grins   to  bear  one's  own 
mischance ;  envy,  itself  most  pitiable  of  ills,  if   'twere 
not  the  most  loathsome  of  all  vices ;  envy,  the  shame  and 
shackles  of  the  mind,  the  leprosy  of  the  heart. 
Another  hurst  of  applause  heard. 
Walton 
Duty  calls  me.    (Shuddering.)    "Well  have  you  said 
to  Yorick:    Before  all  else  comes  duty. 
Shakespeare 
They  applaud  him.     Listen  to  it!     Do  you  tremble 
on  hearing  it?    For  the  envious  no  noise  in  the  world's 
so  harsh  as  that  of  the  applause  that's  paid  as  tribute 
to  a  rival. 

The  Author  appears,  full  of  joy. 
Author 
Joy,  joy!     The  public  is  ours  once  more.     They 
could  but  burst  out  warmly  for  those  verses: 
' '  Solicitude  enthralls  us  as  we  wait 
The  glory  gleaming  toward  us  from  afar; 
What  mightier  solicitude  enshrouds 
Our  shuddering  souls  that  glimpse   th'  approach  of 
doom ! ' ' 
How  Yorick  gave  them !    What  expression,  what  intona- 
tion!    (Another  hurst  of  applause  is  heard.)    Another 
burst,  another !    Admirable  !    Divine ! 
Clapping  his  hands. 


136  tamayo  y  baus  —  a  new  drama 

Walton 

Trying  to  go. 

The  scene  will  halt  if  you  hold  me. 

Shakespeare 

Standing  before  him. 

Give  me  the  letter  first. 

Author 
But  Lord!    What's  wrong  with  everyone  tonight? 

Attendant 
(Appearing.)     Come,  you're  on  in  a  moment. 

Walton 
(To  Shakespeare.)     You  mark?     (To  the  Attend- 
ant.)   Go  on,  I  follow  you. 

Shakespeare 
Gripping  him  violently. 
Soft !    Stay ! 

Author  and  Attendant 
Eh  ?    (Astonished.) 

Shakespeare 
If  need  be,  I'll  tear  out  your  soul  along  with  it. 

Author 
Pray,  Shakespeare,  have  a  care. 
Walton 
Taking  a  resolution. 
Ha! 


ACT  in — SCENE  X  137 

Shakespeare 
What! 

Author 
Looking  at  the  manuscript. 
But  five  more  lines.  .  .  . 

Walton 

Duty  is  more  powerful  than  my  will.    Take  it. 

Drawing  a  letter  from  a  pocket  of  his  costume,  and 

giving  it  to  Shakespeare. 

Shakespeare 
At  last !  .  .  . 

Taking  the  letter  with  eagerness.     Walton  runs  toward 

right. 


Quick! 


Author 


Following  him. 


Attendant 

Prompting  him  with  the  words  he  must  use  when  he 

goes  on  the  stage. 

''Behold  me  here,  great  lord." 

Walton,  the  Author,  and  the  Attendant  go  out. 


138  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

SCENE  ELEVEN 

Shakespeare 
He  opens  the  letter  with  trembling  hand. 
A  letter  in  blank!  Ah!  (Giving  a  terrible  cry.) 
Tlie  one  he  was  to  use  on  the  stage !  .  .  .  And  the  other 
— the  other  one  .  .  . !  Fire  of  God !  (He  runs  to  the 
right,  blind  with  rage,  and  looks  through  the  door.)  Oh ! 
He  is  already  before  the  public!  (Returning.)  The 
serpent  has  deceived  the  lion.  Then  let  the  lion  crush 
the  serpent! 

He  goes  toward  the  right,  putting  his  hand  on  his  sword. 

—  Curtain.  — 

There  is  but  an  instant's  intermission. 


ACT   III,    PART   II — SCENE  I  139 

PART  TWO 

Salon  in  the  palace  of  Count  Octavio.    Table  and  large 
arm-chair  at  right,  panoply  of  arms  on  each  side  of  the 

stage. 

SCENE  ONE 

The  Count  Octavio   (Yorick),  Manfredo   (Edmund), 
Beatrice  (Alice),  Landolfo  (Walton),  the  Stage- 
Prompter  in  the  shell.     At  the  end  of  the  scene, 
Shakespeare,  the    Author,  and   the    Attendant, 
with  actors  and  employees  of  the  theatre. 
The  Count  and  Landolfo  are  talking  together  without 
heing  heard  hy  Beatrice  and  Manfredo,  who  are  on  the 
other  side,  with  terror  and  grief     apparent    in    their 
attitude  and  expression. 
Count  (Yorick) 
Landolfo,  in  thine  absence  was  my  heart 
Torn  with  solicitude;  thy  presence  now 
Doth  rend  me  with  a  far  more  cruel  dread. 
That  letter  ?  .  .  .  Hast  it  ?    Answer,  and  have  done. 
Landolfo  (Walton) 
So  be  it. 

Giving  him  Edmund's  letter. 

Count   (Yorick) 
Ah! 
Taking  it  with  lively  emotion. 


140  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS — A  NEW  DRAMA 

Landolfo  (Walton) 
(Aside.)     Avenged ! 

Count   (Yorick) 

Landolfo,  leave  me. 

Landolfo  makes  a  deep  how  and  retires.    As   Walton 

reaches  door  at  left,  he  stops  a  moment  and  looks  at 

Yorick  with  an  expression  of  triumphant  malevolence. 

Beatrice  (Alice) 

Manf  redo ! 

In  a  low  voice,  with  anguish. 
Manfredo  (Edmund) 
Beatrice ! 

The  same. 
Bk\trice  (Alice) 

The  hour  has  come ! 
Count   (Yorick) 
At  last  I  am  to  know  my  paramour.     (To  Beatrice.) 
Tremble,  thou  faithless  spouse !  thou  ingrate,  tremble ! 
Destroyer  of  my  honor  and  my  peace ! 
Vain  was  thy  craft — behold  the  damning  proof! 
He  opens  the  letter  and  approaches  the  table,  where 
there  are  lights. 
My  blood  is  freezing  .  .  . 

Without  daring  to  look  at  the  letter. 

Let  it  flame  with  wrath ! 


ACT   III,  PART  II — SCENE  I  141 

Woe  be  to  him — the  infamous  wretch — for  whom 
Thou  blindly  dost  defile  me ! 
He  fixes  his  glance  on  the  letter  and  shudders  violently. 

Eh,  what's  this! 

Overcome  hy  surprise,  he  forgets  that  he  is  acting,  and 

utters  what  his  own  emotion  really  dictates  to  him,  with 

the  tone  of  reality.    Edmund  and  Alice  look  at  him  with 

profound  surprise. 

Prompter 

"Alas!    What  do  I  see!  .  .  ." 

Prompting  him  aloud,  thinking  that  he  has  made  an 

error,  and  pounding  on  the  floor  with  the  manuscript  in 

order  to  attract  his  attention. 

YORICK 

What  is  this? 

Prompter 

' '  Alas !    What  do  I  see  !    A  thousand  devils ! ' ' 

Thrusting  his  head  entirely  out  of  the  shell,  and 

prompting  him  still  more  loudly. 

Count   (Yorick) 

A  thousand  devils! 
He  speaks  these  words  of  the  drama  as  if  they  were  the 
expression  of  his  own  actual  grief  and  amazement.  He 
falls  in  a  heap  in  the  arm-chair  that  is  near  the  tahlc, 
covering  his  face  with  his  hands.  Pause.  He  rises  very 
slowly,  looks  at  Edmund  and  Alice,  then  at  the  audience. 


142  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

and  remains  motionless  without   knowing  what   to  do, 

leaning  against  the  table. 

All  doubts  are  dead — here  is  the  living  truth. 

Declaiming  as  from  memory,  ivithout  the  slightest  show 

of  interest  in  what  he  says. 

Approach, 

To  Edmund  and  Alice,  who  draw  near  him  full  of 

perturbation  and  fear. 

Look  there. 

Showing  them  the  letter,  and  speaking  with  new 

vehemence. 

Manpredo  (Edmund)  and  Beatrice  (Alice) 

Oh,  God! 
Giving  a  real  cry  when  they  see  the  letter,  and 
retreating  in  terror. 
Count   (Yorick) 

Earth,  swallow  us! 
Again  he  falls  into  the  chair;  contemplates  the  letter  a 
few  moments,  and  afterwards  as  tho  taking  a  desperate 
resolution,  rises  and  goes  toward  Edmund  with  threat- 
ening expression.  Before  reaching  him  he  stops  and 
looks  at  the  audience,  as  if  to  make  them  understand  the 
conflict  of  emotions  tvhich  is  overwhelming  him.  His 
ga.ze  wanders,  falls  upon  Alice,  and  he  runs  toward  her, 
but  again  stops,  and  returns  to  the  center  of  the  stage, 
putting  his  hands  alternately  to  his  brow  and  his  heart. 
Alice  and  Edmund  watch  him,  dazed. 


ACT   III,  PART  li — SCENE  I  143 

Prompter 
"So  then  'tis  thou  who  art  the  villain.  ..." 
Aloud,  and  again  hammering  the  floor  with  the 

manuscript. 
"So  then  'tis  thou  who  art  the  villain.  ..." 
Yorick,  yielding  to  the  force  of  circumstances,  and  not 
being  able  to  dominate  his  rage  and  chagrin,  makes  his 
own  the  flctitious  situation  of  the  drama,  and  applies  to 
Edmund  the  speech  of  the  character  he  himself  is  play- 
ing.   From  this  moment  the  dramatic  fiction  is  converted 
into  living  reality,  and  in  Yorick  as  well  as  in  Alice 
and  Edmund,  there  are  merged  into  one  individual  the 
actor  and  the  character  portrayed. 
Count  (Yorick) 
So  then  'tis  thou  who  art  the  villain,  thou 
The  treacherous,  the  perfidious — ay,  thou 
The  infamous  seducer  who  dost  dare 
To  torture  thus  the  heart  of  an  old  man? 
O  wretched  waif,  who  once,  in  earlier  days, 
Didst  owe  a  shelter  to  my  pitying  hand, 
And  found 'st  in  me  a  father  and  a  friend? 
Is't  thou  who  robs  me  of  my  precious  love? 
Is't  thou  who  sets  a  stain  upon  my  brow? 
Ay,  such  an  act,  so  brave,  so  chivalrous, 
Has  made  mankind  at  last  amaze  the  serpent! 
In  faith  thou  hast  done  well.    By  God  above. 


144  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS — A  NEW  DRAMA 

He  earns  such  payment  who, — 0  piteous  fool! — 

Did  dream  that  he  should  be  compassionate, 

And  gave  his  fellow  confidence  and  love. 

Yet  nay,  not  that — tho  wounded  and  brought  low, 

I'll  cherish  no  regrets  for  my  pure  faith. 

For  the  deceiver,  open  shame  and  scorn ! 

For  the  deceived,  full  measure  of  respect. 

Manfredo  (Edmund) 
My  father  .  .  .!     Father  .  .  .! 

Count  (Yorick) 

Dream  I?     Said  he  "father"? 
Thy  father,  I  ?    Then  pitilessly  fall 
The  curses  of  the  father  on  the  son ! 

Manfredo  (Edmund) 
Oh,  Heaven,  how  horrible ! 

Count  (Yorick) 

And  unto  thee, 
Unhappy  girl,  what  can  I  say  to  thee? 
So  voiceless,  breathless,  fixed,  and  glassy-eyed, 
As  thou  wert  icy  marble,  save  thy  heart 
Pulses  aloud  its  wild  response  to  mine ! 
Thy  light  of  eyes  that  shamed  the  westering  sun, 
And,  in  a  fatal  moment,  fired  my  heart, 
Where's  now  that  light,  and  where  that  face  divine, 
Blending  in  perfect  harmony  of  hues 
The  crimson  rose,  the  creamy  orange  bloom? 


ACT  III,   PART  II — SCENE  I  145 

Of  all  thy  rare,  seductive  charms,  now  lives 

No  vestige  in  thy  blanched  and  lifeless  face. 

How  swift  a  change !     How  sin  breeds  ugliness ! 

I  found  thee — woe  is  me ! — when,  sad  and  yearning, 

I  trod  the  thorny  path  of  elder  age ; 

Thou  wert  a  sunbeam,  flashing  suddenly, 

A  smiling  liglit  athwart  a  sombre  cloud. 

And,  turned  from  gloom  to  joy,  as  one  adores 

Celestial  angels,  now  with  all  my  soul 

I  humbly  thee  adored. — Who  could  believe 

Such  loveliness  was  but  a  cunning  veil 

To  mask  a  heart  corrupt?    But  now  no  more 

This  fair,  bewildering  candor  may  conceal 

The  shadowy  abysses  of  thy  breast. 

Now  know  I  thou  art  false  as  thou  art  fair; 

Now  know  I  that  my  honor  ruined  lies ; 

That  I  should  loathe  thee — yet  I  cannot  know 

Whether  I  loathe  thee,  as  my  fate  commands. 

Or  if  I  love  the  still. — Ah,  woe  upon  thee ! 

For  love  made  desperate  has  never  pardoned ! 

Seizing  her  by  the  hand. 
If  thou  wouldst  not  that  fury  master  me — 
A  stroke  inexorable  end  thy  life — 
Look  on  me  face  to  face,  and  die  of  shame. 

Forcing  her  to  her  knees. 


146  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

Beatrice  (Alice) 
Thy  pity ! 

Count  (Yorick) 

Thou  wilt  cringe  and  cry  in  vain; 
Expect  no  pity. 

Manfredo  (Edmund) 

She  deserves  it  well! 
Count  (Yorick) 
Xor  she  nor  thou  I 

Beatrice  (Alice) 

]My  life  belongs  to  thee. 
To  end  it  swiftly,  were  a  kind  of  pity. 

Manfredo  (Edmund) 
Mine  only  was  the  offense :  on  me  alone 
Let  fall  thy  fury. 

Count  (Yorick) 

Nay.  with  base  deceit 
Ye  have  both  wronged  me :  both  shall  pay  the  cost. 

Manfredo  (Edmund) 
She  too ;    Thy  hand  could  deal  out  death  to  her ! 

Count  (Yorick) 
Fool,  tell  me,  what  requital  fits  the  crime 
For  which  I  slay  her,  save  alone  to  slay? 

Beatrice  (Alice) 
Nay,  come,  and  suffer  death  to  end  my  terror. 
If  virtue  fails,  what  should  we  do  with  life  ? 


ACT   III,   PART   11 — SCENE   I  147 

But  let  my  blood  restore  to  thee  thine  honor — 
My  blood,  and  nothing  else,  wash  out  the  stain. 

Count  (Yorick) 

Content  to  die,  if  only  he  may  live? 

Thy  blood  shall  pay — and  his. — And  his  the  first! 

He  takes  two  swords  from  the  panoply. 

Manfredo  (Edmund) 

Oh,  fatal  night ! 

Beatrice  (Alice) 

What  horror! 

Count  (Yorick) 

Choose  thy  blade. 
Presenting  him  two  swords. 
Manfredo  (Edmund) 
Yea,  faith,  and  in  my  breast  let  mine  be  buried. 
Suddenly  taking  a  sword  and  turning  the  point  toward 
his  oivn  breast. 
Count  (Yorick) 
And  mine  within  the  bosom  of  thy  mistress. 
Running  toward  his  wife  as  if  to  stab  her. 
Manfredo  (Edmund) 
Oh 'God! 

Rushing  to  place  himself  before  her. 
Count  (Yorick) 
Defend  her,  then !     Bethink  thee  now 
'Tis  an  avenging  hand  that  threatens  her. 


148  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

Beatrice  (Alice) 
Ah,  let  me  die — in  pity  let  me  die ! 

Manfredo  (Edmund) 

Thou  canst  not  die  while  yet  I  live. 

With  vehemence,  allowing  himself  to  he  carried  away 

hy  his  love. 

Count  (Y crick) 

So  then, 
Determined  to  defend  her  now,  thou 'It  fight 
With  me? 

Going  close  to  him  and  speaking  precipitately. 
Manfredo  (Edmund) 
Ay,  verily. 

Count  (Yorick) 

With  all  thy  strength, 
Forgetting  who  thou  art  and  who  am  I? 
Manfredo  (Edmund) 


Thou  say'st. 


I  swear  it. 


Count  (Yorick) 
And  strive  thine  uttermost  to  kill? 
Manfredo  (Edmund) 


Count  (Yorick) 
Ah ! — For  heaven  owed  me  this. 
After  so  great  a  grief,  so  great  a  joy. 


ACT   HI,    PART    II — SCENE   I  149 

Beatrice  (Alice) 
Consider.  .  ,  . 

Manfredo  (Edmund) 
Nothing ! 

Rejecting  her, 
Beatrice  (Alice) 

Ah,  consider.  .  .  . 
Manfredo  (Edmund) 

No! 
He  is  thy  mortal  enemy ! 

Beside  himself. 
Beatrice  (Alice) 

God  eternal! 
Count  (Yorick) 
Then  loose  we  all  the  fury  of  our  hate. 

Manfredo  (Edmund) 

Crime  calls  for  crime.    Let  Hell  approve  the  deed! 

Yorick  and  Edmund  fight  fiercely. 

Beatrice  (Alice) 

Ah,  hold ! 

Holding  Edmund. 
Manfredo  (Edmund) 
Away  I 

Beatrice  (Alice) 

Beseech  thee.  .  .  . 


150  TAMATO  Y  BAUS — A  NEW  DRAMA 

Count  (Yorick) 

Stand  aside — 
Thoul't  steal  his  fire. 

Beatrice  (Alice) 

Then  hear  me  thou — have  mercy ! 
Passing  to  Yorick' s  side  and  holding  him. 
Count  (Yorick) 
Thou  aidest  him  against  me  ? 

Beatrice  (Alice) 

Pitiless  fate! 
Withdrawing  in  horror  from  him. 
Manfredo  (Edmund) 
Oh,  heavens ! 
Feeling  himself  wounded.    He  drops  his  sword  and  falls 
in  a  heap  on  the  floor. 
Count  (Yorick) 
Look! 
To  Alice,  pointing  to  Edmund  with  his  sword. 
Beatrice  (Alice) 
My  Jesus! 
Manfredo  (Edmund) 

Pardon,  Lord. 
He  dies.    Alice  runs  to  him,  hends  over  him,  and  after 
touching  him,  screams  and  rises  aghast. 
Alice 
Blood!  .  .  .     Edtnund!  .  .  .     Blood!  ...     He  has 
killed  him !  .  .  .    Help !  .  .  .    Help ! 


ACT    III,   PART   II — SCENE  I  151 

YORICK 

Silence ! 

Alice 

Shakespeare!  .  .  .  Shakespeare!  .  .  .  (At  the  top 
of  her  voice,  running  across  the  stage.)  He  has  killed 
him!  .  .  .    Help!  .  .  .    Help! 

YORICK 

Silence ! 

Following  her. 
Shakespeare 
What  have  you  done  ? 
Coming  throtigh  door  at  left.    He  approaches  Edmund, 
looks  at  him  and  touches  him.    The  Author,  the  Attend- 
ant, and  actors  and  employees  of  the  theatre,  rush  out. 
With  amazement  they  go  toward  Edmund.    Looking  on 
him,  they  give  cries  of    horror,  and    all    crowd    close 
together  around  him,  some  kneeling,  others  standing. 
Alice 
And  now  kill  me ! 

YORICK 

Silence ! 
Catching  and  holding  her,  and  placing  a  hand  over  her 

mouth. 

Alice 

I  loved  him ! 

Shakespeare  comes  from  among  those  who  surround 

Edmund  and  advances  toward  front  of  stage. 


152  TAMAYO  Y  BAUS  —  A  NEW  DRAMA 

YORICK 

Silence ! 

Alice 

Edmund !     Edmund ! 
With  a  sudden  move  she  succeeds  in  loosing  Yorick's 
hold:  she  then  runs  toward  Edmund  and  falls  beside 
him.     Yorick  follows  her   and   these   three   personages 
remain  hidden  from  sight  hy  those  who  surround  the 

body. 

Shakespeare 

Addressing  the  public,  and  speaking  breathlessly,  with 

great  emotion. 

Good  masters,  as  you  see,  it  is  impossible  to  finish 
the  drama  that  was  being  played.  Yorick,  his  mind 
clouded  by  enthusiasm,  has  killed  the  actor  who  was 
playing  the  role  of  Manfredo.  Nor  is  this  the  only  mis- 
fortune that  Heaven  sends  us.  The  famous  comedian 
Walton  is  also  dead.  They  have  just  now  found  him 
in  the  street,  his  breast  pierced  with  a  sword-thrust. 
In  his  right  hand  he  held  a  sword.  His  enemy  must 
have  killed  him  in  a  combat  face-to-face.  Pray  for  the 
slain.    Ay,  pray  also  for  the  slayers! 

Curtain 
End  of  the  Play 


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